Less Than Perfect
by Surfingpichu
Summary: The story of FFI told through the eyes of some not-so-light, Light Warriors. Chapter 15: The Light Warriors make their escape from Corneria. Stephon hears some unsettling things, and Maric remembers his promise.
1. Prologue:End of one adventure

**_Okay.. a new attempt at fanfiction writing. Erm... this is my first Final Fantasy related fanfic (although I've been wanting to do one for a while) and I'm just hoping it dosn't suck too badly. n.n;;_**

**_ (For anyone who cares I'm probably not going to be really working on my other fanfics for a while.. basically because I've tryed the ideas out and I've run out of ideas already. I thought I had a plotline... and then it died. I'm really sorry about that... and I'll be more careful about know what is going to happen in a fic before I post it with this one and later on.)  
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(Note: This fic is rated for gore, blood, and some pretty dark themes. So err.. don't kill me if you get freaked out by anything here.)

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"_Less than Perfect"_

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy, the Light Warriors, Gaia, Any of the cities, or pretty much any ideas here. However I do own the characters I made up to play the parts of the light warriors and any add in characters they meet along the way that weren't in the original game. Who are they? If I told you there'd be spoilers. nn Enjoy the fic.

Prologue: End of one Adventure, Beginning of another,

Tall statues and monuments adorned the walls of the huge temple. The gray-blue slate floor, brushed with only a thin coat of dust, and was perfect in design. The walls, windows, pillars, all perfect, flawless, untampered with, and untouched. Not a cobweb hung from the high ceilings, nor a chip was taken from the delicate floors. A young red wizard gazed upon these perfect features and sighed. It was a shame a beautiful place like this would one day become the musty, broken ruins that he and his comrades knew as the Temple of Fiends.(_What went wrong?_) Shaking his head he looked to his comrades, who were still peacefully asleep. A red haired knight lay with his back rested against a pillar, his sword, the Excalibur, lay draped across his chest, atop his diamond encrusted armor. _I wonder how he sleeps in that armor._ He mused. Smirking, he turned his attention to another figure. This was a blond girl, dressed all in white, curled up into a little ball on the floor. Her own armor laid next to her, accompanied by a huge mallet. She was a Wizard, like himself, only she had mastered only the White Magics, while he had taken to both Black and White. The last of his comrades was resting up against the wall with his head cradled on his chest and his royal blue hood pulled over his head. He too had taken his armor off for the night, and laid it next to his golden staff, "The Judgment Staff" as he called it. He was, yet another Wizard, and a powerful one at that, only concerning himself with the offensive type, black magics. The four had known each other for a long time, almost all their lives, and each had a special talent of his or her own. That, and their possession of four,huge, almost identical crystals, made them the first to be chosen as the Warriors of Light when the need for them came. (_They had been powerful enough. They had everything they needed._) And after a year of hard work, the only task left for them that remained, was to kill the cause of all the chaos that had begun. In fact, the creature that they had to kill to bring balance to Gaia once again was _called_ Chaos. The wizard smirked and turned to his friends.

"Rise and shine Warriors of Light." He called to his comrades. "The wrath of Chaos waits for no man."

Slowly, the three other Light Warriors, pried themselves from sleep, groaning and rubbing their eyes.

"Can it wait for a woman?" Asked the White Wizard, slowly pushing herself up from her reclined position.

"Sorry." The Red Wizard apologized. "But we have to get to this battle. If we wait too much longer we'll be back in present day Gaia."

The Black Wizard had already stood up and begun to put on his armor. "The sooner we get this battle over with the sooner I can get a full night's sleep" He grumbled. "I hate the wilderness so much sometimes..."

"You hate everything sometimes." The Knight commented, giving the hooded wizard a playful shove, causing him to tumble over. The two were friends, but sometimes the knight underestimated his own strength. "Oops.." He apologized.

"Yeah.. and sometimes I really hate you." The Black Wizard muttered, getting to his feet, but he smirked at the knight and gave him a playful poke with his staff.(_ They were so energetic. So powerful._)

"Come on. Before present day comes again." The Red Wizard said, motioning to the door that led to where Chaos should have been.

The four approached the door, confidently at first, but as the door neared, each became less and less sure of himself.

"Uhh.. Ladies first." The Knight said, motioning to the door.

The White Wizard shot him a glare. "Some knight _you_ turned out to be." She mumbled, rolling her eyes at him.

"I didn't mean you." The Knight said, looking at the Black Wizard. He picked up on the Knight's little joke immediately.

"Very funny..." He muttered, and slowly,and he pushed the door open. (_They may have acted childish, but they weren't fools in combat_)

A groan resembling that of a dying animal was emitted from the door as it opened, and slowly the four, led by the black wizard, tiptoed into the room. It was as silent as death. No-one dared to move, or breathe a word. The room was sparsely lit, and the end of it was shrouded in shadows darker than the night itself. Slowly the Black Wizard stepped further into the room until at last a figure emerged from the darkness. However, that figure wasn't Chaos. The Light Warriors had never seen Chaos themselves, but they did know that that wasn't him. The figure before him wore white-blue armor, with a matching helmet that covered his face completely.(_Maybe they thought too highly of themselves_) Two long spike-like horns protruded from the helmet, and helped to make his figure more menacing, and a cape was draped down his back. Immediately each of the Warriors realized who that were looking at.

"Garland..." The Red Wizard breathed, staring in complete awe at the figure before him.

"H-how did you..." The Knight started, but his voice caught in his throat. He was shaking violently, and his eyes were wide, and displayed in them was an emotion his comrades had never seen in him before, fear.

Garland them gave a small harsh chuckle. "So, you do remember me.." He said. His voice smooth, and leathery, unlike it had been the first time they'd met, what seemed like a lifetime ago, on the bottom floor of the Chaos Temple, fighting over the life of a young princess.(_Maybe they relied on each other too much_) Now the stakes were higher, and he was at the top of his game. "I was once known as a knight of Corneria."

The dark knight now began to advance on them, forcing them to back away from him.

"Two-Thousand years from now... you killed me." He said with a cruel chuckle. "Garland... thats what I was called. Thats the name you knew me by"

From under his blue-white helm, a twisted smile appeared on his face.

"Oh you did kill me then." He said in almost a whisper, but just loud enough so that the four could hear him.

Now the Red Wizard was getting nervous. He could feel his heart racing and his palms sweating. Garland had gone mad, and now he and his comrades were at the mercy of a madman. The very notion disturbed him greatly.

"But the four great forces saved me by sending me back through time." Garland pressed on, his voice now rising, as if he was getting to the climax of a great story. "And once here, I sent the four fiends into the future."

The Red Wizard heard the White Wizard give a stifled gasp(_Maybe they trusted each other too much._). Not that she was surprised that he'd sent them back, but that she'd come to the realization that all four Warriors had just grasped. Everything they'd done was in vain.

"There, they shall once again use the four great forces to send me into the past." Garland finished, but his story could have gone without saying.(_Or maybe not enough_) Each of the Warriors knew what he was going to say. Garland turned in a gust, and took a few steps back, but the Warriors stayed pressed against the slate-brick wall. "In Two-Thousand years, I will remember none of this."

None of the four Warriors dared to move, speak or breathe, and for a second, all was still and quiet. But suddenly there came an unexpected, abrupt flash of light, causing each of the Warriors to jump slightly. A small point of light formed just before Garland's breast. But slowly, the point began to expand into a ball of pure energy that soon had engulfed him completely, until the Warriors couldn't even see each other in its brightness.(_They weren't ready_) When the light finally died down, before them stood, not Garland but a terrible winged beast. It was sandy brown in color and had a strong, muscular build, only looking a bit human. The details that had once marked that of Garland's armor now seemed to create the very flesh of the beast, and even the horrible devil horns that sprouted from Garland's helm had melted into the head of the beast.

"I will be reborn here" The beast said in a horrible, deep voice, contrasting the voice Garland had held before. "So even as you die again and again I will return. Born again into this endless circle that I have created."

The Red Wizard's blood ran cold.(_Even with their extensive trust and friendship, they could never have won_) Could this be Chaos? If that was true, and Garland was Chaos, then there would be no way to end the chain. No way that is, unless they were to cut him down now. The Red Wizard put his hand to the sheathe of his sword, and drew it slowly, holding it on end, and the other Warriors followed suit. There was no need for words, each of the Warriors knew what the other was thinking, and each knew they were thinking the same thing. Chaos would die here and now.

The beast, Chaos gave a smirk, characteristic to that of Garland. "So you dare to challenge me?" He questioned them. He gave a flap to his mighty wings. "Very well."

With that Chaos took to the air, gazing down at his opponents with almost pity, as if he saw a future of pain for them.(_They were missing something_) But the Red Wizard was confident in his own abilities, and the abilities of his comrades. He smirked back at the winged beast, holding his sword poised to attack. He gave a glance to the Knight, and gave a little nod. The Knight nodded back and gave a small gesture to Chaos. Only the Red Wizard himself knew what he'd meant by this. To any other, even to the Black and White Wizards, this was just a small mental conversation, but in fact this was an exchange of plans. Quickly, he began to mutter an incantation under his breath, still holding his sword poised as if ready to attack. The Black and White Wizards began to breathe the words of their own spells, seeing their comrade begin. The Red Wizard slowly felt himself drifting from the battle field, his own words engulfing him, the power of the spell rushing through his veins as if it was his own blood.

"Haste!" He pointed his sword to the Knight and a rush of hyper energy burst from his veins and into that of his friend.

The Black Wizard followed suit. "Temper!" As his own, smaller burst of energy rushed in to fill his comrade.

"Holy!" The first true offensive spell was unleashed by the White Wizard.(_Compassion_) The battle was on. And it was with that the Chaos creature unleashed his first attack.

"Blaze" The creature muttered in a cold voice, and with that word the very ground around them turned hot. The Red Wizard gave a small cry in pain as a steaming hot liquid filled his shoes. The floor itself had melted.(_They cared for each other enough to do everything in their power to save each other_) Pillars of melted slate billowed up into the air, and the white hot liquid rained down upon the four, causing each to cry out in the blinding pain. And with that the floor grew solid again, and the intense heat dissipated.

The Red Wizard withdrew in pain, the attack hindering his ability to think for a few seconds, but it didn't stop the Knight, who immediately flew in for a physical blow, his body practically glowing with the magical energy that had been forced into him, and the blow he delivered seemed enough to even cause Chaos to wince in pain.(_But they didn't attempt to do things they thought were above them_) Chaos however wasn't at all stunned from the overall blow, and retaliated with a swift swipe that could even cut through his diamond armor. There was a sickening crunching noise as the beast's long claw collided with the Knight's chest, and flung him across the room landing limply in a heap.

"Flare!" The voice of the Black Wizard was heard just as the Knight hit the floor, and a blinding flash of light engulfed the Chaos creature, and then was sucked into small black point, only to emerge in a burst of flames and light a second later, showering it in the white hot embers of pure energy.

However despite the intensity of the blow, Chaos seemed to brush the hit off easily.(_They didn't value each other's lives above all else_) It gave a grunt, and glared at the Warriors, now not mocking, but enraged. "Tsunami." It growled, and with that word water began to flow right into the room, and Chaos flew up to avoid the water.

The Red Wizard exchanged a frightened glance with the White Wizard, knowing it would be impossible to avoid the blow, and then looked ahead to see a giant wave above them. It came down with a crash, sending a spike of pain through the Red Wizard's body.(_And thats worth more than any battle strategy_) He looked up weakly, only to see another wave, and then another, and another, each one crashing down on the party until the were all submerged. Water filled the wizard's lungs, and he struggled to find the breath of air he so longed for. And all at once the water receded, leaving the four Warriors on the floor, gasping for air and coughing up water.(_But how can you create something like that?_) Or at least, the Red and Black Wizard were. On the floor the White Wizard lay, crumpled and drenched, not moving or breathing, and a few feet away lay the Knight, still laying in a relatively similar position to the one he'd been laying in previously.

"No..." The Black Wizard breathed, looking out at his fallen comrades. Immediately he shook himself of the shock he'd received and scoured his blue, and now drenched cloaks for a phoenix down. But as soon as he averted his gaze from his foe, a long, muscular claw swooped down and collided with his fragile body, flinging him across the room.(_Maybe it just happens by chance_) The Red Wizard looked on in horror as his last standing comrade was taken from him, now laying in a steadily growing puddle of crimson fluid. He could feel his stomach turn backflips. His three comrades, three best friends, all gone in a matter of minutes, and he hadn't done anything to stop it.

He closed his eyes, and tried to somehow, somehow get away from the situation, to concentrate on his spells, so that he could revive his friends, but shock and fear gripped him.

_Just leave it all behind_ He told himself, and slowly forced his fallen comrades and his foe from his mind. He began to mutter the incantation to the life spell momentarily, the only spell that would be able to save him and his friends now.(_Then the only way for Chaos to come down, is to take that chance_) But his words didn't come swift enough, as another word, dripping with hatred, pierced the air. "Thundaga"

The Red Wizard's eyes shot open as he spun around just in time to see the enormous peals of lightning headed straight for him. And then it hit. Electricity burned flesh as the lightning pulsed through the wizard's body, making even fiber in his body scream with more pain than he'd ever imagined. He could feel himself falling... falling.

He'd failed.

He'd failed his comrades who had fought so hard to get there, he'd failed Corneria, Princess Sara, everyone he'd promised to help, to save Gaia from it's certain doom.(_Maybe then, things will turn out differently_) He'd failed all of Gaia. The pain was gone now, and the last thing that passed the wizard's lips, were two words, strung as one, meaning every feeling that he could feel at the moment. "I'm.. sorry..."

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**_So yeah.. a nice cheery prologue for a nice cheery fic eh? Yeah... I'm just a little morbid when I write, but oh well. Rate and review if you can._**


	2. Chapter 1: Evil, Evil Forest Imps

**_Meh.. no reviews to respond to but oh well... either no-one likes my story or people are just lazy. Oh well though... I can't say that I'm not like that, so I'm just gonna keep popping out chapters and hope that the people who actually give one will at least read. (And maybe review?) _**

**_(Note: I really didn't come out with this chapter in about 3 days... It really took me almost a month to get this much done but I've already got allot of this pre typed. Actually, up to Chapter Four.)_**

**_Anyway, Chapter 1 everybody! Enjoy, or something like that._**

**_(Warning: rated for Violence, gore and dark themes)  
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Chapter 1: Oh those evil, evil forest imps.

A cool, chilled breeze rattled the leaves of the trees, on a brisk afternoon in Autumn. The leaves of the trees had been painted an array of red, orange, and golden hues, bringing the whole forest to life. The late afternoon sun beamed down on the forest, warming the land, and seeming to almost comfort it from the harsh, brisk breeze, that signified the coming of winter. A boy, no more than seventeen years old. walked beneath the canopy of trees from the forest, letting dry leaves crunch beneath his feet as he walked. The cold wind of winter chilled him, and forced him to give a sudden shudder as he pulled his bright scarlet cape around his body and his matching bandanna over his mouth. In his completely red outfit, he looked quite outlandish out in the woods, but he almost felt safer when wearing it. He couldn't really explain exactly why he'd chosen such a wardrobe, and knew quite well how it made him a living target to the forest's many creatures, but he felt better when wearing it.

He didn't have to worry about common muggers often in the woods. He knew there weren't many thieves in the woods with all the monsters around, and even if there were he had his rapier ready, and if he absolutely had to use it, a good reserve of black magic as well. Plus if he got hurt, he had white magic to heal himself. _One of the perks to being a Red Mage_ He always told himself. Of course, it wasn't as if a mugger or thief would be likely to try to attack him. His long, bleached white, fine hair, cold gray-green eyes, and deadly looking rapier were enough to discourage anyone, magic or no magic. A red, wide brimmed hat with a dove white feather set atop his head completed the picture. Maric Argonson was his name.

Maric gave another shiver as the cold air of winter began to set in. _It just gets worse every year._ He thought with a sigh._ The winters just get colder and longer, and the harvests just keep getting worse and worse. The wars are getting worse too, and the monsters seem to be multiplying greatly._ Life itself was getting harder every day as plants seemed to give up their will to live right before his eyes. Even the sunsets had lost their luster, and the once peaceful life of a farmer he'd lived with his mother and father all his life was slowly turning into a struggle to survive.

_We'll never make it through the winter_. He shook his head. _We should just give up now._

The sun would be setting soon, as it's trip across the horizon neared its end._ I should be heading back I guess..._ he thought, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to trudge back home. Usually a good walk in the woods cleared his mind, but today it had just made him more miserable. Even the things he used to enjoy in life were fading away.

Suddenly a sound, the rustling of trees and the snapping of twigs, gave Maric a jolt, and he instantly shot to attention, his rapier flew from it's sheathe, the sound of metal on metal stabbing through the once quiet air. He looked around wearily.

"You're caught." He cried. "Surrender yourselves now you filthy rats."

He already knew what was making the noise. No skilled thief makes that kind of noise, and no mugger moves that quickly. It was a forest Imp. Dirty little thieves these were, who went around in groups, stealing anything they could get their greedy little hands on that seemed to be of value from anyone and everyone. Most of the time they just snooped around and cut off people's hands.

In the instant Maric cried out his suspicions were confirmed, and a small forest imp scampered into sight. It was about three feet tall with beady little eyes, a squished, wart strewn face, pointed ears, and a long crooked nose. It wore a torn and dirtied rag as it's clothing that seemed to once be green colored, and was wielding a long curved sword in one hand. It was one of the nicer looking forest imps, Maric had seen much less human looking ones. He studied the imp closely. It didn't look any different from a common forest imp, but it was alone for some reason, which is odd for a forest imp, and seemed to be lugging something that caused it to almost limp along quite sluggishly. But despite these traits, it was no different from a regular imp, and it's greedy hands seemed eager to get some of Maric's gold.

The imp sprang into action upon seeing Maric, not paying a bit of attention to his drawn sword. It lunged at him, it's own blade poised to attack, and Maric swung down to counter the attack. Metal clanged on metal as the swords collided, and the imp's sword went flying from its hands, and landed in the brush a few feet away. The imp again lunged, this time trying to pit bare fists against Maric's sword, but of course, imps weren't known for their intelligence and it ran right to him, wide open for attack. Maric took the opportunity that had been handed to him, and swinging his blade cut the imp clean in two. It died instantly, and Maric was almost glad it hadn't had to suffer as it passed on.

Now Maric was curious. He'd seen the imp struggling under some type of weight, so this meant it probably was carrying something with it. Maybe something of value. Now, he wasn't one to pillage corpses after he was done with them, and might have let the creature live had it not attacked him. But now curiosity pricked him, and he simply had to take a peek.

He gingerly lifted the imp's tarp like clothes, and a bag of gold dropped out the second it was lifted. Inside were 8 pieces of gill. Not a bad sum of money, but not heavy enough to make an imp struggle under the weight.

Then, in one of the pockets the imp had sown into it's shirt, Maric came across something cold, hard and smooth. He wrapped his hands around the object, and pulled it out slowly, and a huge blue crystal was revealed. He turned it over in his hand, noting the strange markings carved into the sides. Yet the crystal, despite it's unique shape, size, and color, seemed familiar. It was extremely similar to a crystal he himself possessed. It was a family heirloom, passed down for generations each to the first male child of the family. His was red, and had a symbol carved into it that resembled a flame. There had always been something special about the crystal, and his father had told him as a young boy that it was one of the very crystals that defined the appearance of a light worrier. Of course, his father told him many things then, most of them untrue, and he had always thought of the crystal story as one of these made up tales. However now that he'd found this blue crystal his confidence wavered that the crystal story was fake.

"There is no way a common forest imp could possess a crystal like this." Maric thought aloud. "It must've stolen it from someone, but who could it have..."

Maric paused in mid sentence. A voice, in a whispered pleading cry, flew through the wind. At first Maric thought it was his imagination as the voice had been so soft, but then it came again. "Please... somebody... help..." It was a male voice, low and breathy, and Maric could tell whomever it belonged to was in terrible pain. Bad enough to try to direct attention to himself in a forest full of thieves and monsters.

"Hello?" Maric called out. "Is anybody there?"

No answer came. Maric could feel a chill rush over his body, not from the cold wind this time, but from anxiety.

"Hello!" He called again, this time louder. "Please answer me! I can't help you if I don't know where you are!"

His blood ran cold. He was too late. The person had probably died by now.

A broken tree branch suddenly caught his eye. A few feet away a dead imp body lay. There had been a battle here. Someone had fought a bunch of imps, and lost.

Maric broke into a sprint now, following the trail of splintered trees and broken twigs into a clearing. At first he saw nothing other than more trees and brush. However, he noticed a bunch of grass panked down, and dyed crimson with blood. Someone had fought there. Then suddenly, a royal blue spot, huddled under a tall oak tree, caught his attention.

But the presence of the figure didn't give him relief. In fact it just made his blood run colder than before. The figure was a black mage. Now, Maric was a mage himself, and quite proud of it at times, but black mages were different from red mages. Red mages used their black magic for defensive reasons most of the time, and seldom would try to use it for battle, but black mages knew only black magic, and often times the power would corrupt them. Black mages were evil, that was the only thing to it. They banded together in groups of five or more and would destroy villages and kill civilians, just for fun. They themselves even admitted to enjoying the pain of others and watching their helpless victims burn in magical fire. It gave mages a bad name, and Maric himself hated them.

Maric approached the figure cautiously _Maybe it isn't a black mage_ He thought desperately _Maybe it just looks like one from afar._ But as he approached the figure, his fears were confirmed. The figure was, without a doubt, a black mage. He wore royal blue robes, stained red in several places from blood, and a long tall hat made of woven straw and tied with a brown leather wrap at the base, which had somehow fallen in such a way that it covered his face as he lay. His robes were torn in several places, with long crisscrossing wounds across his back and arms. The signature style of imps.

Maric gave the bundle of robes a small kick, but the body did not react, still laying lifelessly on the ground, not moving or even breathing. _It's dead._ He thought, half in sorrow for the lost life, and half in relief for the fact that he wouldn't have anything to do with the mage himself. Maric turned to walk away, but stopped after a few steps. _It wouldn't be right to just leave him here._ He thought, looking back at the mage. _It doesn't matter what type of person he once was, he doesn't deserve to rot away in the forest. _He approached the mage again, and stooped down to where he lay. _Just burn the body. You don't need a ceremony for a black mage, and the ground is too hard to dig into anyway._ Maric closed his eyes, and emptied his mind of all the cares and worries that constantly plagued his thoughts. Isolating himself from reality, and bringing him into a world where only magic existed. But he could feel a presence in the midst of his own meditation. A strong magical aura that seemed to break into his body and mind. This is something that only happened when a mage with stronger potential magical power was in his presence. But Maric was sure he was the only person around, just him and the dead black mage. Unless the mage wasn't dead.

Maric's eyes snapped open, as he flew back into reality, and he grabbed the mage's wrist. Red, sticky fluid clung to Maric's hand, but he ignored the utterly disgusting contact. The mage's soft, pale white skin was cold and clammy to the touch, but Maric found what he needed despite the overall dead appearance. A pulse. A steady surge flying under his fingertips that meant life. Relief flooded him for a split second, until uncertainty took it's place. The mage was alive, but fading fast. If Maric didn't do something now it wouldn't live, but did he really want to save the life of a person who could be a killer? Did he really want to take the risk? Black mages weren't known for being good people, they were more of the types to stab the person who saved them in the back, thus saving the life of one wasn't exactly a great idea all the time. However, this was just what he'd heard, and he could be leaving an innocent person to die.

_He's a black mage_ He reminded himself. _This is probably some type of trap. It's obvious actually. Black mages don't travel alone, they always go in groups of 5 or 6. _He stood up again, and turned again to leave, but then yet another thought intruded. _If it is a ploy, why didn't anyone attack me yet?_

Maric sighed and turned back to the mage. "Okay fine..." He said aloud, as if submitting to the mage's silent plea to be healed, now standing directly over the crumpled form. With one hand, he reached into his back pocket, groping for a plume of phoenix down, and the other hand found it's way to the hilt of his rapier. He figured that in the event that the mage was a good person, he could leave him be, but in the event that he was an evil person, he would cut him down swiftly. Cautiously, he pulled a red leather pouch from his pocket, and released the golden tie that held the mouth of the pouch tightly shut. He turned the pouch onto it's side and sprinkled it's contents, a mixture of crimson feathers and some type of powder, onto the lifeless mage.

The second the first plume of phoenix down brushed against the black mage's blood stained robes, the magic began. It started as a tiny point of light, that appeared only as the first plume settled. But as it sat the light began to grow, and as more plumes landed they too began to emit light. Soon the tiny points had all combined as one, all shimmering and twinkling as one. Dancing upon the mage's blue, bloodstained cloak, and overshadowing the small crevices the fabric held. Maric took a step back as the phoenix down feathers worked their healing magic, almost in awe. The blue, white light played across his features as it engulfed the mage's last remaining viable parts. A thin ring of light formed around the mage, and all at once, the light erupted and grew ten times as bright, nearly blinding Maric as he watched, and then all at once died down into nothing.

There was no sign that the plumes had ever been there, they seemed to have disappeared into thin air. The mage still lay there, not moving, still lifeless. _It didn't work_ .Maric thought sadly. His heart hung heavy in his chest, and his stomach seemed to tie itself into a knot. He'd been too late, the mage really had been beyond all hope. Maric shook his head, and turned to walk away, slowly, defeat hanging over his shoulders. He took a few slow steps away, his head lowered a bit in shame that he couldn't save him, but a small sound stopped him in his tracks. A cough. Just a single cough, but enough to make him turn around, this time with a faint flicker of hope in his heart. _Imps and beasts don't cough._ He thought. _Humans cough. And dead things can't do that. _ He took a few steps back towards the mage, and stooped down. His chest was steadily rising and falling, and that was just enough to tell Maric what he'd done had worked. He had just begun to stand back up, when realization of his true situation hit him like a ton of bricks. _I just revived a black mage. _He thought, his hand flying to the hilt of his rapier, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. _What have I done? What was I thinking? Black mages kill and raid. Black mages find joy in watching the despair of others. They don't deserve life, and I just saved this one from the exact thing it should have received, death. How could I have been so foolish? The life of a black mage, it isn't even worth the effort, it's... _

A small groan interrupted Maric's little inner-rant. The mage was stirring, waking up, and somehow coming out of the coma he should have stayed in for at least another hour after being healed that close to the brink of death. His sudden, slow movement startled Maric, and for a second threw him off his guard, but he quickly recovered and drew his rapier, holding it threateningly to the mage's back. The mage had now risen to a crouching position, and was apparently, fully aware of his surroundings. _That was fast _Maric mused, still looking at the mage intently, but keeping his stare cold and unwelcoming. The mage, slowly turned around, putting a hand to his temples, probably to speed up the new adjustment to light, and when he removed them was met with the point of Maric's rapier, pointed right to his neck. He flinched backwards and gave a little cry, his bright yellow eyes staring up at Maric, through the shadow of his wide-brimmed straw hat written with surprise and fear.

The two stared at each other for what seemed to Maric like hours. He had planned what he would do up to that point, but once the mage was at his mercy, what did he do next. The mage kept his tense position, pressing himself up against the tree and scrambling against the bark in an attempt to stay as far away from the sword as possible. It made sense; no-one really liked to be on the wrong end of a sword, especially when someone like Maric was holding it. An eerie silence spread over the forest, and it seemed for those seconds, or minutes, or hours that they stat there, the world, and even time itself stood still, as if waiting for Maric to do something. The forest stood still, silent. Not a bird, nor animal nor forest imp disturbed the brush, and the wind had died so that not even a whisper escaped through the trees.

Finally, Maric broke the silence. "Friend or foe?" He asked, trying to make his voice as commanding as he could, and almost making himself flinch when he succeeded, his voice scaring even him.

The mage looked at him for a second, his fear seeming to dissipate, and curiosity taking it's place.

"Well..."He began, his voice seemed to be lingering on the fine line between childhood and adolescence, and gave a small crack when he began, but nonetheless Maric could tell the mage was serious.

"That depends..." He glanced about uncomfortably, breaking eye contact with Maric, before beginning again. "Were you.. ah.. involved, or in any way affiliated with the hanging of a black wizard who went by the name of Wyatt Tellerman?" He asked, spewing out the string of words all in one breath, and all very quickly. His odd request was enough to leave Maric stunned, his sword beginning to waver from it's spot.

Now it was Maric's turn to feel uncomfortable. He was the one who was supposed to be doing the questioning, but it didn't seem appropriate to leave the mage's question unanswered. Maric himself had never been fond of hangings or burnings, as they always seemed so blood thirsty, and really were just about as bad as the people who received them. He shook his head in response, his voice seeming to be caught in his throat for some reason.

"Then, Friend." He said, his tone of voice not wavering from it's original tone, but his eyes met Maric's again, this time they were written with relief.

Maric slowly withdrew his sword from it's position and slid it back into it's sheathe, and stepped back, but the mage didn't move, nor did he make any attempts to get up.

The tension remained, hanging heavily in the air, preventing either from moving or speaking. But soon tension turned to confusion as the two soon forgot their reasons for being so tense in the first place, and confusion turned to curiosity. And all at once a million questions began to brim up inside of him, and Maric could feel the pin pricks of curiosity stabbing him from all directions. Questions of all sorts began to pop into his mind, from silly trivial things like, "Why do his eyes glow like that?" and "Which spells does he know?" to more serious ones like, "What's he doing out here alone?" and "Why hasn't he attacked me yet?". And then, one single question forced all the others from his mind, and lingered there. "Is he the one who the crystal I found belongs to?"

But despite Maric's wide array of questions, it was the mage who spoke first. "Umm... sir?" He asked, cocking his head to one side. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Maric flushed as he realized he had been staring at the mage all the while, and it was probably enough to make him feel extremely uncomfortable. Almost immediately he averted his gaze, feeling almost embarrassed.

"Oh.. I wasn't asking you to avert your gaze." The mage recovered quickly, and managing to confuse Maric even more throughly. "I just wanted to know why. But if you don't want to tell me you don't have to."

Maric gave the mage another confused stare, thinking at first that the mage was joking, but his eyes told Maric that he was serious. _I guess it isn't a question of how safe the mage is now, it's more a question of sanity. _He thought, almost chuckling, but not finding the thought really amusing at all.

"Well... I guess it's confusion really." Maric replied, trying to sound as casual as he could. Not an easy feat when dealing with a man who could easily roast you on the spot. "I mean, how often do you get to meet a black mage who doesn't want to cast some weird spell on you?"

"Then we both have questions..." The mage confirmed, and when Maric said nothing in reply he continued. "Well... first of all... how did I get here anyway?"

Maric shook his head. " I don't know" He replied softly,almost regretting the fact that he couldn't answer the mage's question. " I found you here near death after being attacked by what seemed to be forest imps and..."

"Wait..." The mage interrupted. "You... saved my life?" He asked, seeming almost in awe that anyone would do such a thing.

Maric nodded. "I suppose you could say that" he said. "But it was only a plume of phoenix do-"

"I never thought I'd see the day." The mage laughed, cutting Maric off. "A knight that saves the life of a mage. And here I was thinking that all of you were the same."

These words hit Maric like a bolt from the blue. Could it be that mages held a stereotype towards other people just as people held a stereotype to them? It seemed quite absurd to him, but black mages lived an entirely different lifestyle, isolated from other people, and had families, hobbies, interests, and legends. It made sense that a mage would also carry stereotypes, but for them to carry one that was almost identical to the one that was thrown around his home town in Corneria

"All the same?" Maric repeated. "But... you black mages... aren't _you_ all the same?"

"Well of course not." The mage replied, giving Maric a confused look. "What ever gave you that idea?"

"Well you do all look the same..." Maric replied rather bluntly. "And you all wear the same clothes, and the same hats, and the same... faces." And now that Maric thought about it, it was actually quite unsettling to think of the mages themselves. There was absolutely no way to tell one from another. They all looked exactly alike to the untrained eye, and even then differences were very small.

The mage fell silent, his previous talkative, curious air vanishing completely, and Maric knew he'd said the wrong thing. He lowered his head so that his oversized hat covered the large yellow orbs that he called 'eyes'.

"Then you are all alike..." He mumbled, his voice his barely audible.

Maric shook his head. "What?" Was the only reply he could come up with. What did he mean by that? Why had his statement effected him like that? The little mage hadn't ceased to confuse him since they'd met.

"What?" The mage echoed, looking back up at Maric. "Oh... it was... nothing." He waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, we should head our own ways now. It will be dark soon and... well... at the academy it was advised to never be out in the woods alone when night fell."

Academy? Well that explained a lot. Near every major kingdom two or three magic academies were opened up. Usually one for white magic, one for black magic, and sometimes, one for integrated black and white magic studies. Corneria was no exception to this rule. Near Corneria a black magic academy and a white magic academy were posted, or at least had been up until recently. The king of Corneria at the present moment, had never been fond of mages, especially black mages. And in truth, who could blame him? In general, they posed a threat to society. Killing, and pillaging, and burning villages, and because of this a law was passed prohibiting the use of black magic in the kingdom of Corneria, and furthermore banishing all black mages from the city and closing the resident black magic academy. The mages did not respond well to this at all, and now there have been more black mage attacks than ever before, and as a result, they were hated even more throughout the land.

_Come to think of it _Maric thought suddenly _The black magic academy is nearby too. But then, why didn't he team up with any other mages?_

"I won't forget this day." The mage announced after a few seconds, which once again caught Maric off his guard. "And you shouldn't either. From now on I'm in your debt. Remember that."

_**Alright.. there you go for chapter 1. yeah I REALLY hate how I ended this one, but meh. Actually this and chapter 2 were supposed to be just one immencely long chapter, but because it was so out of proportion I cut it into two. I dunno, this isn't THAT bad of a spot... but I still hate it. Ah well. R and R everyone.. you know you want to. O-O**_


	3. Chapter 2: Master of the Wind and rain

Chapter 2: The Master of the Wind and Rain

In the air about the Cornerian forest there hung a troubled, tense feeling, within what would have been a relatively carefree place. Maric Argonson never thought he would see the day when another black mage, besides his uncle, showed a friendly face. A young black mage, who's age was difficult to place exactly, sitting there in the forest, looking near death and rather weakened and fatigued, had just pledged his life to a man of Corneria; a man whom he had yet to really come to know. All the same the boy had given his life to Maric: an unbreakable vow of the sorts. Once one's life is pledged to another, the vow cannot be taken back until the debt is repaid, or the 'master' bids the 'servant' leave.

The boy got to his feet, or rather, tried to, because the second he stood up he collapsed to the ground again. He gave a weak laugh, but Maric could tell the boy was worried, and Maric himself was concerned for the mage's safety. A phoenix down could revive a person from the brink of death, and help them to regain consciousness, but it wouldn't bring them to full strength, nowhere near it. Therefore it wasn't a good idea to try your luck in a forest full of creatures that could easily tear you to shreds right after using one. Not that it was a good idea anyway, but the slim chance he might have stood before, now was gone.

Again the mage tried to stand, this time managing to get to his feet by leaning against the tree he'd been lying under, and shot a glance to Maric, as if to assure him that he'd be fine. But Maric knew better than to believe him. Clearly the mage didn't have any idea of what he was getting himself into, most who had just gotten out of the academy didn't as their studies focused only on magic and how to use it, never mentioning once that it would be used for battle, and never attaching any lessons that would help them in battle. His uncle, who was a black mage himself, and who Maric considered to be the only decent black mage in Corneria, had told him of this. He'd attended the academy of Corneria for a good many years, and had taught Maric how to use black magic himself, but his knowledge was very finite because he had been kicked out of the academy by his fifth year, and had only just started to learn level two spells. Maric would often share laughs with his uncle about how silly the academies had been by teaching magic, and how to use it, but never teaching where to use it, or how to back it up with offense. But now, things were serious. This mage had absolutely no way of surviving the forest, no where to go when he got out, and didn't even know how slim his chances of surviving were.

"Do you want some help?" Maric offered, extending a hand.

The mage shook his head.

"I'm fine" He replied. "I just need to regain my balance, thats all. It's not that far to Corneria from here"

_He's going to Corneria? After the laws the king passed? _Maric thought, almost surprised at how naive the mage was.

"Seriously, you need to come with me." Maric insisted. This mage was the first mage, besides his uncle, that he'd met who wasn't a blood thirsty murderer, and there weren't enough mages left that didn't have a supreme blood lust. He wasn't about to let this one march off to certain doom. The mage however, made no move at his words, shifting his weight quite uncomfortable, though saying nothing, causing Maric to continue "Look.. I don't mean to be blunt but, you don't stand a chance in the woods on your own. To even think about walking all the way to Corneria from here, barely able to stand and expecting to be able to fend for yourself against the creatures here... it's insanity at best! And if you _do _somehow make it, how long do you think it would be until someone yelled 'Black mage!' and you got swarmed and beaten to a bloody pulp anyway?"

The mage was taken aback by Maric's sudden outburst. He did admit that he had been a bit more harsh than he'd intended to be, but he knew it was probably the only way to get through to him, as he'd come off as a rather stubborn person indeed. The mage opened his mouth to say something, but stopped in mid breath to reconsider, the expression in his eyes changing several times as he thought his words through. In the end he just gave the ground a small kick.

"I-i'll be fine on my own" He said finally, but Maric could tell his confidence had been shaken. "I don't need an escort to get into town. I have magic, and I have my blade; I'd say that's enough to ward off anyone who would dare cross the path of a warrior of the elements, wielder of the very fibers of creation and master of wind and rain. What do you know of magic anyway? You're a sword wielder: some sort of knight, you know nothing of the power of magic. Why, if I'd had half a mind, I could easily roast you on the spot, if you hadn't noticed, so thank you for your concern, but if you'll excuse me I will be going now." With that he drew himself up to full height, taking a rather proud stance for a few seconds, before losing balance once more, and staggering backwards, wrapping his arms once again around the tree trunk for support

"Right..." Maric murmured smirking. "A 'master of creation' who gets beaten within an inch of his life by forest imps. And one who knows little of swordsmen himself: I _am_ a mage; far from being a knight.

"That's beside the point." The mage said, now seeming irritated. " I don't need your help."

With that the mage pushed himself away from the tree and took a few shaky steps away, standing up straight with his hands on his hips, with what should have been a triumphant smile concealed beneath the shadow of his hat.

"See?" He said, his voice cracking again and ruining the effect he had tried to portray."I can fend for myself."

And with those words, a relapse took hold of the adolescent mage and he fell to the ground a third time, landing on the dry leaves of the forest floor with a small thud. He gave a little groan as he recovered from the fall, and Maric raised an eyebrow at the display. The mage had sealed his fate, there was no way he was going to go off on his own.

"Come on..." Maric sighed, grabbing the mage by the wrist and pulling him to his feet with a swift jerk. "It'll be night soon, and town's not that far off. You can sleep at my house for the night, but on no circumstances may you wander about without my permission; if anyone happened to see you in there we'd both be driven out of town."

The mage pulled away from Maric, looking confused again. "Who said I'd go with you?" He demanded.

"I did." Maric answered. "And it's not like you have a choice." He hadn't forgotten what the mage had said about owing him his life, and Maric knew bits and pieces of the black mage code himself. One thing he did remember, was that if a mage pledged his life to another, no matter what the circumstances were, he would be bound to that man for life, or until that man said otherwise.

For a second the mage raised an eyebrow, not seeing where Maric was coming from, but soon his eyes widened as realization of what he'd gotten himself into dawned on him.

"Th-Thats not fair." He protested, still gaping at the red mage. "I-I didn't.. you... I.."

Maric smirked. "All is fair in love, war, and contracts." He replied. "Now let's get going."

The mage gave a gusty sigh, and reluctantly took his place behind Maric, stumbling a bit as he walked. And so Maric began to walk in the lead towards the village, but as soon as they began their trek back the mage gave a small cry, and fell to the ground again.

Maric turned to face him.

"Here..." He said, taking hold of the mage's wrist and swung his arm over his shoulder. Then Maric put his own arm around the mage's back to help support him, and in turn the mage began to lean on him a bit for support.

For a moment, the mage was silent, keeping his eyes to the ground. But soon he spoke, without lifting his head. "Why are you helping me?"

Maric opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. In truth, he really didn't know what had possessed him to help the mage in the long run other than sudden impulse. "I..." Maric began. " Well... why not?"

"You're putting yourself in danger for my sake..." He replied, his voice , grave and low. "You don't even know me, yet you are willing to take the risk of being seen with me to ensure my safety. I don't understand. Why put your life on the line for that of a stranger?"

Maric thought over his words, and he realized the mage was right. He was really taking a risk for no real reason other than to save the mage's life, and he didn't even know if his life was worth anything. But then, a factor that had been pushed to the back of his mind after everything that had happened was brought forth. _What if the Crystal I found is his._

"Because..." Maric began, but hesitated. " Well.. first I want to ask you something."

The mage nodded, picking his head up now. Maric delved into the pocket of his pants, until he pulled out the blue crystal he'd seen the imp carrying. It's center glowing even brighter than before.

"Is this yours?" He asked, holding the crystal up. The mage's eyes widened to twice their size.

"Oh..." He gasped, not taking his eyes off of the crystal. "Did I... how did you?"

"I got it off of a forest imp before I heard you call for help." Maric replied. "I thought it might have been your's but I didn't have time to ask."

"You've just saved my life a second time." The mage breathed in reply, still not taking his eyes off the crystal. "umm... for what price?"

Maric laughed. "No price. I assure you I'm not one to barter. " He replied. "Although... who in their right mind would try to steal from a light warrior."

"Light... Warrior?" The mage asked, his head to one side, apparently not grasping the meaning of Maric's words.

"Yep." Maric confirmed. "And I'm a Light Warrior too. So that makes us teammates." Maric smiled at him warmly, although he didn't know if his statement was true. All he really had to go on was his father's tall tales from many a year ago, and they weren't exactly a reliable source, but if it was enough to get the mage on his side.

"Well.." The mage said reluctantly. "What ever you say... sir."

_Sir? _Maric thought in confusion. That was the second time he'd called him that, even though they were on mutual terms. _He could just call me Maric... unless he doesn't know my name. _And as soon as he thought of it, he realized how silly he sounded, even in his mind. _Well of course he doesn't know my name, I never told him._

"Maric." He corrected the mage. "You can call me Maric... and you are?"

"Shane." The mage replied. "Shane Tellerman. Wyatt Tellerman was my father." A hint of bitterness marked his words as he uttered his father's name.

_His father? _Maric echoed in his mind. _Thats why he wanted to know if I had been involved in the man's hanging, _

"Okay, Shane." Maric replied. "Anyway, we're teammates now, and teammates are supposed to help each other. That answer your question?"

"I ... I suppose..." Came his reluctant reply.

Maric couldn't help cracking a smile, as he began walking again, holding a steady pace that was slow enough for the weakened mage. Shane was an odd one, that was for sure. In fact Maric didn't know if he'd ever met anyone like him. It was almost odd that someone who looked so uniform could act so differently, unique was the first word that came to mind. _But... that can't mean all mages are like this, right? _He thought. _I mean... most of them are still blood thirsty killers, right?_

Maric glanced at Shane for a second. He was still watching the ground, maybe in deep thought. _It could easily be an act. _He told himself. _And don't underestimate the kid's acting skills. You don't know him, he could be a murderer, he could be using me to get a good place to rest and restore mana, heck this could all be acting, every awkward moment, every falter, everything, it could all have been a well thought out and rehearsed scheme, he could have been waiting for me, or just anyone. It seems far fetched, but you can never know with mages._

Glancing over to Shane again, Maric noticed that he'd begun to weaken a bit. The mage seemed to be relying on him more now, and his pace had slowed considerably.

"Hey, are you okay?" Maric asked, concern taking hold of his emotions.

Shane nodded. "I'm fine..." He replied. "Just... just a little tired..." His voice seemed strained now, and he was panting as if it was hard to keep up with Maric. He in turn slowed his pace a bit, but it didn't seem to help much.

_Don't drop off on me now... _Maric pleaded silently. _We need to make it into town, and it'll be a lot easier with you awake. _There had to be some way to keep him awake, but the phoenix down was the only medicine he'd had left, and he'd depleted his mana within the first hour of his little journey. The only other option seemed to be to talk to the mage to keep him alert, but that was better than nothing.

"So..." Maric began, not really knowing what to ask. "Why are you out here in the first place."

"Huh?" Shane snapped out of his thoughts at Maric's words, and lifted his head now to face him. "Oh... well...when the academy closed... I stayed in the basement to hide out for a while, and up until... a week ago I did, but then food supplies got low and I... I decided it would be best to leave, so I gathered up the rest of the supplies I had and went off into...into the woods, trying to find Corneria, but I guess I got lost, and then a bunch of imps attacked me and well... here I am."

Maric eyed the mage cautiously, after his short story was through, and found it fairly hard to believe that the mage had lived on his own in the woods for a week. Then again, he probably had rationed the food he'd kept with him and would have just about enough food to last him for 8 to 9 days. But that still didn't explain why he had only met up with one group of imps for a whole week, or why he was alone.

"Shouldn't you have set off in a group?" Maric asked, although not through concern, but rather curiosity.

"A group?" Shane echoed. He fell silent for a moment, but soon came up with an answer. "I... wanted to travel... alone for a while." But his words were resentful, and again marked by bitterness, and Maric could tell he hadn't chosen to go alone.

"That can be dangerous for a mage" Maric commented, trying to sound casual and distanced. The boy seemed to have quite enough raw nerves to hit. "You know that... right?"

"I know...but my father." He stopped in mid-sentence, as if the mention of his father had caught him off guard. "He had no problems traveling alone in the woods, and I...I thought that I might be able to too..." He trailed off, and cast his gaze to the ground again, beginning to plunge back into his thoughts.

"He was a great mage..." Shane mumbled after a few seconds of silence. "A great... wizard. He never used his power for evil either, he... helped people with it." His voice was low, and quiet, as if as he was talking he was recalling bittersweet moments of the past. "He didn't deserve death. He deserved more than anyone could have ever given him, but got the last thing that should have been given to him." For a second he fell silent, and heaved a sigh. "He was on a mission to clear our names, but his life was cut short. It isn't fair. Not for me, or for anyone. And I wanted to continue his legacy, and complete his mission, but I'm not half the mage he was. How can a... a mage like me fit into the shoes of such a great wizard?"

"Maybe you weren't meant to follow his footsteps." Maric offered, almost regretting his commanding manner. "Maybe you could leave an imprint in your own way."

"No!" The adolescent cried out. "You don't understand I..." But he stopped himself in mid sentence "No... of course you don't... you wouldn't"

"Don't understand what?" Maric asked, now being pricked by another needle of curiosity.

"Oh.. it's... it's nothing." Shane replied, waving him off, and almost immediately changed the subject. "Hey... we're almost in... in town. I can see the lights... from... here."

And it was true, the lamp lit night streets of Corneria were visible beyond the trees and brush. They almost seemed like stars in the night sky, beckoning for them to come in. Of course that wasn't their destination, as Maric lived on the outskirts of a nearby town that was located near to Corneria, but it still seemed reassuring that they were near civilization.

For a second Maric stopped walking. He looked to Shane, who was now relying on him more heavily than ever, and then back to the lamp lit streets of Corneria. It was a cold night, and the sky was an eerie dark blue black. The moon was the only light that shown through the low gray clouds, and the stars seemed suppressed by it's veil. There was a slight wind, but it felt odd, almost as if the wind was straining itself to blow. It gave Maric a feeling of impending doom, like something horrible was going to happen, had already started happening. Both the wind and the earth seemed to be slowly dieing, and no-one could stop it. Eventually everything would just stop living altogether and everyone would die along with the planet. The thought sent a shiver down Maric's spine. The thought of dieing that kind of slow and painful death. _But.. that wont happen for a long time now. _ He reassured himself. _Won't it?_

Maric turned his attention, once again, to the mage he was traveling with, only to find that he'd now sunk down into Maric's hold completely, resting his head on his shoulder.

"Hey.. are you alright?" He asked, snapping his fingers in front of his, now totally invisible, face. The mage however gave no response. "Shane?" He gave the mage a small shake, but to no avail. The boy had succumbed entirely to the hands of sleep.

_Just my luck _Maric thought bitterly. _The very worst thing that could have happened just now happened. Now I'm stuck in the forest, alone, with not only my own safely to worry about, but now I've got this mage to look after too._

Being as gentle as he could, Maric slid the mage's now limp form off of his shoulder and into a resting position on his free arm. Then he lifted the unconscious mage off of the ground, placing his other arm under his upper legs that still remained hidden under his dark blue robes.

Maric took that time to look the mage over more carefully. His frail, thin body was completely covered by the long,navy blue garment he wore, which was made of a heaver material than Maric had imagined. His entire face was covered by a large straw hat that was woven quite loosely and was tied at the top with a slender piece of rope, and at the base with a piece of leather. Even as he lay in Maric's arms, his hat stayed in it's place, shielding his face from all light, and this, Maric knew, was because of a spell that his uncle had told him about. A "hat spell" as it was called by most, it was used to not only bind the hat to the head of it's wearer and block out all and any light from reaching the wearer's face, but also was credited for the yellow glowing orbs that took the place of eyes for them. _Why do they wear them like that anyway? _Maric wondered as he stared into the darkness that had completely taken over the mage's face. The was one thing his uncle had never told him about, never giving him a straight answer when he would bring up the topic.

For a second, Maric's hand wondered to the brim of the mage's large straw hat. _No-one would know if I was to just take a small peek. _He thought, gripping the tip of the brim between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, began to pull the hat from the head of it's owner, not caring what he might think if he ever found out about what he was about to do, but suddenly, he stopped and released his grip on the mage's hat. And he stopped, not because he'd had a change in judgment, but because he'd now, for the first time since he'd met Shane, got a good look at his hand. A dark red, sticky, fluid now covered it, and had already begun to seep into the cuff of his shirt. Maric recoiled with a cry, and nearly dropped his companion when he caught sight of this. Although, when he thought about it, it did make sense that, from half-carrying the mage, who was drenched with the fluid himself, is far he himself would get a bit on himself, but it was the amount that surprised him.

_The phoenix down should have stopped most of the blood loss. _Maric thought, now regaining his hold on his unconscious companion. _But that doesn't mean all of it stopped. _ He stooped down and laid Shane on forest floor. _If I don't do something now ... at this rate he'll be dead by morning. _Maric bit his lip, his heart now racing as he franticly searched for the last open wound his companion held. And for a second, it almost stuck him as odd that he cared so much for the life of someone he barely knew, something he'd never felt before for most people. But, of course, he had a job to do, and he couldn't allow his mind to wander.

It, luckily, didn't take long to locate what he was looking for. A long tear, starting from the blue fabric near his forearm and and extending all the way to the cuff, separating the entire sleeve of the mage's robe in to two halves, gave away the location almost immediately. With a wave of relief washing over him Maric gingerly pulled away the bloodstained fabric to reveal a long, neatly cut wound that extended from the mage's wrist to his forearm. He cringed at the sight. Despite the fact that Maric himself was seasoned in the ways of fighting, and often had killed things with his own sword, he was still quite squeamish, and often tried to avoid blood at any cost, not only for the sake of the best he was killing, but also for the sake of his own peace of mind.

Averting his eyes from the sight of the open wound, Maric quickly tore off a piece of red cloth from his own tattered cape that had already been partially severed, and began to wrap the wound tightly in the thin cloth. He gave an involuntary shudder as his hand accidentally touched part of the cut, and had to force himself not to look at his hand. Tearing off one last piece of cloth, he made the last tie, and finally looked back to his work. Considering the fact that he hadn't been able to look at what he was doing, he hadn't done a bad job, and although there were some uneven places in the wraps it would definitely hold, and stop the blood flow. _And it's not as if he's going to have to leave it on until it heals. _Maric reassured himself. _It's just to hold him 'till morning, when I have enough mana to heal him properly. _

With that task out of the way, he quickly pulled the half-shredded sleeve back over Shane's now bandaged arm, and took him back into his arms. They were really would have been quite an unusual sight had anyone seen them, a red mage carrying a black mage in his arms, both rather dirty and wearing worn clothing, and both looking rather odd in appearance alone. Luckily, it was late enough that no-one was anywhere but at home in bed, with the moon high overhead, only just about able to poke it's light through the long blanket of clouds overhead. As Maric walked, he could see his own village coming into view. The dark forest had been cut off here, and faded into the long, grassy, rolling hills that made up his town. His own house was at the top of one of these hills, and although the house itself wasn't exactly beautiful, the location was perfect, and you could see the entire village from there as well as the gates of Corneria. The thought of his home, and getting there at last after his encounter made Maric walk even faster than he had been. Just the thought of finally being able to lay down for some rest, made him feel a great deal more content.

But on the thought of getting home, another thing occurred to him that he hadn't thought of before. He had been out for quite a lot longer than he usually was, and in a community like the one he lived in, he wouldn't put it past some people to start investigating and tracking him. Especially his uncle, the only relative he knew of that was still alive. His mother and father had died only a year before, and had left their farm to him, and his uncle had ever since assumed the responsibility of keeping an eye on him. He was, at times, a bit of a fool, Maric would admit, but it was better than having no-one at all. It was only now that the loyalty of his uncle would come back to hinder him.

Silently, he pleaded the mage to somehow drift back into consciousness. _At least then _He thought _I could have him sneak around the back after I found that the coast was clear. _But it was quite clear to him that he was not going to wake up, and even if he did, he would probably barely be able to stand because of all the blood he'd lost. The wound he'd gotten was really more fatal than anything he'd ever seen a forest imp deal.

As soon as this crossed his mind, he stopped dead in his tracks. Now, Maric, of course, was no fool, and he knew that Shane's story was probably a lie, but this gave this situation a whole new tone. There was no way forest imps could have inflicted a wound so precise. He had encountered many in his travels, and knew off hand every possible move they could make, and he knew that a blow to the inside of the arm was near to impossible for a forest imp to make, and quite inconvenient as well. It was much easier to make an utterly crippling blow to the legs, much easier than it would be to get high enough to make a cut from the fore arm, all the way down to the wrist. And the style was far too clean for a forest imp, which usually would make several criss crossing slashes to the area it wanted to harm, without using any precise cuts what so ever. No, that wound had to have been made by something intelligent. Someone intelligent. Someone was after Shane's life, there was no doubt in Maric's mind about it, and not just bloodthirsty citizens of Corneria who were seeking revenge. This mage's life was of some kind of value to someone, whether it be some kind of information, or hidden power, or something, but it was enough to make someone desperate to get rid of it. Maric shuddered. Something was telling him he was getting into much more than he could handle.

By now Maric had entered his little village, and now tread on the cobblestone roads. It was a really tiny town. It had only one general store, one inn, two magic shops, one of which his uncle owned, an armor shop, and a weapon shop. Lined around the town were several farms, and houses, all strewn across the hills, and it didn't take long for him to find his own house, an old, rundown shack at the top of a hill, with a sad looking excuse for a barn attached and some withered fields of what was supposed to be crops. It couldn't be denied, the fact that the 'farm' Maric lived on was a mess, and really a sad excuse for a farm in the first place, but his parents still were intent on keeping it. Maric would much rather move into Corneria, even if it meant giving up magic, for although he was skilled with it, and his knowledge of both black and white magic came in handy occasionally, moving into Corneria would eliminate the need for it in the first place. But alas, his parents were intent on keeping the farm, which had run in their family for several generations now, and Maric had learned to forget his annoyance for it, and had come to almost enjoy running it, even if it was a failure nowadays. And as he trudged up the hill, with the adolescent mage in his arms, he, for once, felt happy to be home.

To Maric's surprise and relief, as he neared the house, the absence of light in the windows of the shack told him that his uncle hadn't shown up, and had left him be. And although he was relieved that he wouldn't have to face them, he felt a pang of anxiety and almost sadness that he hadn't been thought of in his absence. He could have easily been mugged, beaten, killed, or all three alone in the great Cornerian Forest. It was almost scary, the thought of being beaten and left for dead in the middle of the dark forest with no-one around to hear your cries for help. The thought the no-one was wondering where you were , and knowing that your time was up, it made Maric's stomach turn backflips. And his stare strayed once again to the young mage he held in his arms. _That... that's what he probably felt like. _Maric thought, his grip tightening around Shane's shoulders and knees. He hadn't thought about it before, but an experience like that must've been terrifying, especially for someone that young. To think of life ending that abruptly, that quickly, and Shane himself seemed to have so much he wanted to do. Failure, with no-one to comfort you, no-one to help you to your feet again, no-one to wonder where you are if you don't come home at night. Not even a place to call home.

It was at that moment, that Maric felt a stronger bond to the mage than he'd ever felt towards anyone. Maybe it was out of pity, or maybe it was because he was a bleeding heart and wanted to help him with his burden, but whatever it was, it was strong. He bit his lip, and slowly entered the house.

The front door had no lock, so when Maric leaned up against the craggy wood it gave way instantly, and let out a soft moan and it slowly swung open, and made his way into the house with the mage in his arms to the bed room.

The house had originally been a one room cabin, in which the bedroom, kitchen, dining room and living room were all the same room, but a crop surplus on their part several years ago had left them with an abundance of gil. There had, in fact, been enough left over to give the farm an upgrade and still have enough to add onto the house. So two bedrooms were added, one for Maric and one for his parents, and although it was a small room it was better than sleeping in the same room as his parents. Of course, when his parents died the following year, the year that Maric was preparing to leave home, they had no longer needed to use the other room, but Maric had left it untouched in a sort of honor of their death.

Maric sat down on the floor, removing his cape, hat, and his rapier and sheath, and laid down on the floor,propping his head against one leg of the bed. The room was filled with darkness, complete darkness, and had Maric not been through it hundreds of times, he wouldn't have been able to find his way around at all. Now the room was completely silent, and Maric could feel himself nestling down against the bed post, exhaustion taking it's tole on him. He'd never felt this tired in his life, and literally felt like he'd been run over by thousands of soldiers, all suited and dressed for war. But just as he'd begun to drift off into a peaceful slumber, a voice, low, wispy, and seeming almost as exhausted as he felt, came from behind him, and he his head to see two small slits of light piercing the darkness.

"Maric, are you still awake?" The voice asked him.

Apparently Shane had awoken some time after he'd reached home. _Why couldn't you have come around earlier? _Maric half moaned to himself, but nevertheless he was relieved that Shane was okay. There had been a good chance that he'd have found a dead mage in his bed in the morning, but now that he'd awoken, at least for this time, that told him that he wasn't as badly hurt as it had first appeared. Setting aside, of course, the fact that he had a huge gash in his left arm that desperately needed to be healed, he seemed to be fine.

"Yes, but I'd rather not be" Maric replied, but he concealed his annoyance enough to keep him from feeling uneasy about it. " You should really get to sleep, this day has been hard enough on you."

The yellow glow seemed to recede a little bit, but they didn't take their glare off Maric.

"Listen." Shane said again, in just barely a whisper. "I'm really sorry I... I've been such a burden, I know. I probably don't deserve this and..."

Maric cut him off with an exasperated sigh.

"Look, we've been through this. We're teammates, so we have to look after each other, and what's done is done." Maric said, this time letting his annoyance run through. "So do me a favor as get some rest. If you don't you're going to regret it."

"But I..." Shane began again, but again was cut off.

"I don't care." Maric said quickly. "You can beat yourself up all you want tomorrow, but for now we both need some rest."

With that, there was a defeated whimper from the corner where the bed was, and the glows disappeared.

Maric almost felt himself smiling, as the mage's breath slowly faded into an almost rhythmic pulse, and he could feel even himself slipping back into the world of rest. He really didn't know what would happen tomorrow, if he and Shane would track down the other two Light Warriors, if they would find them, and if they really were, as he'd said, teammates bound by destiny. It didn't matter to him if they were or weren't, he would play it up to be so anyway. What he was worried about was who the other light warriors were, and how they'd like being on the same team as a couple of mages.

Out of the darkness, when the red mage beside him had long fallen into a deep state of slumber, a black mage sat, fully awake in the strange room he'd found himself in upon regaining consciousness. Of course, he had no ill intentions for the boy, he'd saved his life after all. In fact, being awake wasn't by his own will, he was extremely tired and weak, and would rather be sleeping right now, but the stabbing pains of guilt in his side wouldn't subside.

Feeling defeated, he sighed, and finally took the last course of action he could think of, a strategy for getting stabbing pains of guilt to leave him be that his father had taught him of many a year ago. To write out his feelings and stow them away on paper. He caught sight of a small desk in the corner of the room presently, and made his way over to it,trying not to stumble over the sleeping red mage.

A few pieces of parchment lay on the desk, as well as a feathered quill and an ink well, and taking the writing utensil, in his shaking left hand, and trying to use the faint light his eyes gave off to watch what he was writing, began to scribble words onto the paper.

_**Dear Wyatt,**_

_**I really don't know why I'm writing this. Then again, if I knew why I did half of the things I do every day I'd surely go insane. Maybe I already have, but that's beside the point. I know you probably will never get to read this letter, as I'm pretty sure that dead people can't read, but I fear I should lose the small amount of sanity that I still possess if I don't do this.**_

_**At the present moment I am in the house of a 'red mage', as he calls himself, named Maric. I never caught his last name, as you always tell me I should with all strangers, but nevertheless he seems kind enough. You see, he is responsible for saving my life, and not only that, but also for retrieving your precious crystal and returning it to me. I wish I could do something in return for his acts of kindness, but I'm afraid I cannot linger here for long. It would put both of our lives in danger, and I'm not sure if I could live with myself knowing that he could be killed.**_

_** The problem is, that because of the similarities of the crystal I possess now, and the crystal he owns, he has dubbed us teammates for reasons that I cannot explain. He for some reason is determined to stay with me, and has already put his safety on the line for mine. I don't think he knows how much of a burden he is placing upon himself by insisting that he travels with me. Not only could he be arrested for being seen with me in public, but with my old comrades on my heels and desperate to permanently silence me about, well, matters that wouldn't be safe to put into writing, there is no place anywhere near here that is safe for us to go. If we were to be captured I doubt they'd think twice about killing us both.**_

_**I must flee from this town as fast as I can, with or without Maric. If I felt I could move three steps without collapsing right now then I would have run already, but unfortunately that is not so. I just hope we can get out of here before they catch up to us. That is probably wishful thinking, but the fact that they presently think I'm dead will probably slow them down. Or at least I hope so.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Shane**_


	4. Chapter 3: Now for Something Completely

_**Alright, I've got Chapter three up now, and again, thanks sooooo much to Magic-Noise for reviewing, (and for the complements, I'm glad you like Shane and Maric. n.n )**_

_**I know it took a bit of time, and I'm starting now on Chapter 4, but it will take a while so be patient. But thanks for reading this far aand, enjoy the fic. **_

Chapter 3: And Now for Something Completely Different

Corneria was a large kingdom, one of the largest in the world, and definitely one of the most powerful of it's time. It had always prospered, and grown quite well, and even when it seemed to be as powerful and grand as it could be, new limits were discovered and Corneria's status went ever upwards. It was a kingdom in it's prime, and it seemed like the glorious days would never end. Unfortunately, however, nothing lasts forever, and although the people of Corneria didn't realize it, their beloved kingdom had already begun to spiral downwards, and once it had started, it would be near to impossible to stop before it reached rock bottom.

"The really distressing thing," A young man spoke, his voice filled with worry. " is that the king doesn't realize that this is happening. The kingdom is dieing, farmers are yielding less and less crops, seasons have been getting dryer and dryer, and with the mages destroying villages everywhere it's not as if they have enough to spare. Talon, this is a crisis, and most of the nobles either don't know or don't care. How long do you think it will be before the people revolt?"

A second young man walked the streets beside him " I know Stephon..." He sighed, sounding exasperated. "And I agree with you that the king shouldn't be turning the other cheek, but seriously, how can you solve a problem like dry spells on farms? And it's not as if we can't hold a revolt back. We have the strongest army in..."

"It's not how strong we are, Talon." Stephon sighed, running a hand through his hair, and he cast his stare to the ground. "If the people revolt, it wont matter who wins, either way we would be destroying ourselves from the inside. We're at war Talon! With Elves, no less. If you don't think that a civil war breaking out here would trigger an attack from their side..."

"I know Stephon..." Talon said again, but this time his voice was full of worry, his eyes reflecting his tone of voice. It was clear to both of them that the kingdom was on it's way to destruction, even if most had no idea this was happening.

Stephon and Talon were brothers of noble upbringing, and the sons of a man who was very close to the king. Stephon, the older of the two, was a fairly well built young man,at the age of 22, with golden blond hair that stuck out every which way in an untidy manner. He had blue eyes and was of normal height, and wore Iron plate armor that sported the Cornerian crest. A longsword hung on his belt which he would adjust slightly every so often.

The younger of the brothers, Talon, at around 19, was allot taller and broader than Stephon despite his age. He had dark brown hair that fell to his ears, and brown eyes that were dark enough to scare away even the strongest of men. He, like Stephon, was also clad in iron plate armor with the Cornerian crest on it, and a broadsword hung at his side.

It was because of Stephon's involvement in political matters that had brought them to their position here in the first place. Despite the fact that the two of them were nobles, their father had insisted that they join the royal guard, not so much because he wanted them to be in the royal guard in the first place, but simply because a few years prior, Stephon had begun to develop an interest in the kingdom, and what went on, and being well aware of their situation, had begun to question the king's decisions, even to the point of speaking against the king's decisions to his father and brother. This had troubled their father greatly, for he knew if his son opposed the views of authority too much, the king himself might hear and take it as a threat, so to keep both Stephon and Talon out of the way, he sent the boys to become part of the guard.

It was for that reason that they had been wandering through the town that day, a small town on the outskirts of Corneria which had yet to be named. They usually didn't enter the small town, as most of the residents would deny being part of Corneria altogether and wanted nothing to do with the kingdom itself, but today things were slightly different. It had been just recently learned that the town was also the home of quite a few mages, white, black and mixed,some of which were rumored to have a hand in the attacks that had been irrupting all over Corneria, and upon hearing this Stephon had been eager to begin the search for the mages, in hopes that driving the mages from this village, by any means needed , would help Corneria to begin to recover, or at least make recovering a bit easier.

Stephon and Talon had begun the search only a few hours ago, and hadn't found many unusual things. It seemed to be a regular town, apart from a single magic shop they'd found, that turned out to only sell white magic spells anyway. The town was rumored to have a second shop that sold several black magic spells, but they hadn't come across such a shop yet during their search. However, even though their search had been brief up until this point, the lack of evidence that there had been any real activity going on there other than some farming and trading amongst merchants had already made the brothers impatient, though Talon was the only one inclined to show it.

"This whole search is for naught." He announced suddenly, as they made their way into the town square for the third time. "There are no black mages here! None! In fact, I'd say other than that kid who worked in the magic shop we found an hour ago, there are absolutely no mages in this whole forsaken village!"

It was clear to Stephon that Talon had lost his patience with the search, as he knew wouldn't take long due to his brother's impatient, hasty attitude and hunger for action. Even Stephon himself had lost hope in the search long before, even though they had only just begun, and it was quite clear to him that their father had just sent them to get them out of earshot when the court gathered to discuss issues breaking out all over Corneria. But despite his doubts, Stephon, being the more patient and devoted of the two, was ready to continue the search until they'd scanned the entire town, in the hopes of flushing out one of the clans of black mages that had been plaguing the kingdom,even if the castle hadn't intended for them to find anyone in the first place, and for once knowing that by sentencing these mages to death they would actually be inching closer to bettering the kingdom, instead of just helping the people of Corneria to rest easy, thinking that the villains were being pursued.

It was probably the wrong thing to do. Lying to the crowds, then sentencing the innocent, or at least as they claimed, to death. Although it made the people of Corneria rest easier, it also made sleep come hard for Stephon. Seeing the blue cloaked men marching to their death, with only a handful of them guilty of the murders that had been held to their names mixed amongst the innocent. Today would be different though, today they could flush out the people who were really responsible for the burned villages and lost lives.

"Talon we've only just begun our search" Stephon finally replied. "Its going to take some time to flush them out too, I mean, these guys aren't stupid. No-one said they'd be easy to find."

This only earned him an exasperated look from Talon.

"Well I've heard that it's usually not easy to find someone who doesn't exist." Talon mumbled sarcastically, sitting down against the wall of a near by shop. "This whole deal is just another ploy to get us out of the way and you know it Steph, theres nothing here."

Stephon sighed and sat down next to his brother. _He's probably right _He thought, defeated. _This whole search had been for nothing so far. _

There was a tense silence between the two brothers. Stephon glanced towards Talon for a moment, but his younger sibling was staring intently at the ground, as if trying to block out the older of the two. It was clear to him, that his brother was about as annoyed with him, as he was with the quest itself, and he knew quite well why. A few months prior, Stephon had received notice that he was to wed the princess of Corneria herself, Princess Sara, and rule as king when the king who reigned presently, King Leo VI, passed away. This was startling news, not only for Stephon himself, but for Talon as well, not to mention their father. In fact, The father of the two young men was probably more concerned than anyone, over the king's selection, for he knew of his eldest son's strong view points, and feared Corneria would fall if they had been put into effect, because although they would please all the citizens for a time, they seemed short sighted, and wouldn't help the kingdom in the long run.

Talon, however was a different story, for although he honored his brother, he was also envious of him. Being the younger son, Talon was often pushed to the back ,and ignored. To their father, his political viewpoints meant as much to him as that of a peasant, and he was often ignored completely by everyone. Stephon saw the jealous glances Talon would throw him in the days following, often wishing that it had been Talon who had been chosen to wed the princess instead of him. He did want to change the kingdom, but being king seemed to be too great a task for him, but he couldn't turn down King Leo's offers.

To make matters even worse, a few days ago, the princess had disappeared right out of the castle, as if into thin air, without leaving so much as a footprint behind. Though people later reported seeing a well dressed maiden, unconscious, being carried off by a dark, menacing figure, in blue plate armor, with a horned full-helm that covered his face completely. He rode on a horse as black as night, swiftly through the darkness. There had been three royal knights of the castle who pursued the dark figure, on horseback, but the black horse had been far too swift. But even so, the man stopped abruptly, and dismounted, the unconscious girl still held in one arm, and unsheathed his blue-white gleaming blade. The people who gave the reports told that the man slashed his sword only once before all three men had fallen from their horses, dead. With that he promptly rode off in the light of the full moon, leaving the Cornerian people in awe.

Stephon shook his head _If the girl truly was princess Sara, then we'll never be able to get her back. _He thought sadly. _No amount of soldiers can get past that man. Even if there was, we wouldn't have enough._

It was truly a sticky situation they were in when he thought about it. Here they were on a wild goose chase while so many other things could be assessed. Even if they were to flush out the mages, it wouldn't make as much of a difference in the long run. As Talon had said, the search, most likely was for naught.

Stephon had been deep in thought, thinking about all the problems they were facing, and were about to face, when Talon's voice broke through his thoughts. He whipped around to see his brother, now standing with his sword drawn, posed threateningly at something. Stephon sprung to his feet, wondering what all the ruckus was about, and hoping that his brother had found one of the mages they'd been sent to track down.

The person at the other end of Talon's sword, turned out not to be a black mage, nor even a type of mage at all. It was a girl, around 17 with untidy honey blond hair, that was pulled away from her face with a green bandanna. Her blue eyes were stricken with fear as she stared at Talon, seeming stuck to the spot. She wore a brown Tunic, tied around the middle with a leather belt, and in her hands was clutched a small, red velvet bag, that looked familiar to Stephon.

It was familiar, of course, because the little bag was a bag containing quite allot of gil that belonged to Talon, but more important than the gil, was the large emerald like crystal it contained, which had been their father's until it was passed onto the two boys. It was clear to Stephon, that they'd stumbled across a young pickpocket, who'd been unlucky enough to come across a few victims that carried swords with them, to which the small dagger that was clutched in her other hand would do nothing against.

The girl glanced from Stephon to Talon a few times, her eyes wide with fear, and then suddenly took off in a sprint down one of the cobblestone paths, clutching the velvet bag as tightly as she could, and the two swordsmen took off after her, swords drawn, plowing past any by-standers that happened to be unlucky enough to be caught between the two brothers and the thief girl. However, although they made a good attempt to catch the girl as they ran off down the cobble stone road, leather shoes slapping against the stones, their armor slowed them down immensely, and put them at a great disadvantage. The thief was quick on her feet to begin with, and only had the weight of her knife and the sack of coins she'd stolen from Talon to weight her down. Stephon and Talon on the other hand were suited up in plate mail, chain mail, and had their swords as well, and though it would aid them in a one on one battle, it wasn't going to help them fight if they couldn't catch the person they wished to fight against.

As they chased after the girl, she only grew steadily farther and farther away, and soon the chase seemed that it was just as worthwhile as their search for mages in the village, but that didn't stop the two brothers from trying as hard as they could to catch the thief. Not really for the gil she had stolen, but for the crystal, fearing the punishments that would await them if they lost the precious stone.

Finally the girl broke away from them altogether, and rounded a corner that led into an ally, with the two knights panting and gasping as they ran in an attempt to keep up with her, and as they rounded the corner themselves, they found that the girl had vanished right into thin air. She was completely gone.

"This way!" Talon cried, running straight ahead, down the ally, not really knowing where he was going in the first place.

Stephon followed him a few steps, and then stopped, and turned around as his brother's footsteps grew farther and farther away. _A thief has to be craftier than that._ He thought _Or at least not that obvious. Otherwise how could she make it as a thief at all? _Stephon slowly crept back towards a pile of boxes that Talon had overlooked. It was an obvious hiding spot. Almost typical, and Stephon smirked as he neared the boxes, expecting to find the girl there, counting the gil she'd so cleverly stolen, just waiting to be discovered. Stephon slowly put a hand to one of the boxes and peeked around the corner, knowing almost exactly what he'd find. But when he did peer into the small hiding area the boxes provided, he found that it was bare. No-one was in there. _Maybe I gave her too much credit. _He thought stepping a few paces away from the boxes, but as he did he felt a sudden presence behind him, and before he could spin around of unsheathe his sword a knife had found it's way to his neck. And Stephon stood stiffly, feeling a person's hot breathe against the back of his neck, and a second hand made it's way around Stephon's middle, and a cold feminine voice whispered in his ear.

"Don't breathe a word, or make a move or it will be the last thing you do." The voice said threateningly, and the knife came closer to his neck.

Stephon made no movement, and silently complied with to the voice's wishes, not really having much of a choice to begin with. But as he did, he was also thinking of what he could do to escape. His brother had run off, and probably wasn't going to come back for him just yet, and when he did it might be too late, and until he found the intentions of his captor he couldn't do anything.

"You're one of those nobles aren't you." The voice sneered. "One of the people running this joint that hasn't the faintest idea as to what is really going on. So blissfully unaware. It's unfortunate we all couldn't be that way."

Stephon cringed as the knife cut in a bit closer to his neck. "Wh-what do you want me for?" He finally managed to regain his voice and choke out his question.

"I said shut your trap, or the knife does the talking, understand?" The voice growled. " And in response to your question, lets just say a little noble here is going to fetch me a pretty gil, you get me?"

A ransom. The girl was going to hold him for a ransom. _At least that's cleared up... _Stephon thought in a sarcastic tone._ But now, I've got to focus on, somehow, talking this little thief into letting me go. Once the fight is fair I'll be able to win her over and take her in for questioning and later to be hung. _

"Listen..." Stephon interjected after a brief moment of silence. "If it's money your after I can give you all the gil you'll ever need. Just let me go, and give me the bag back."

The girl's grip on Stephon relaxed slightly, the knife slipping down about an inch on his neck, but nevertheless it would still be near to impossible to break out of her grip and get away with his life. Even if he could just get his captor into a small conversation, he would be able to easily break free of her grasp.

"Your offer is tempting," The thief said finally, tightening her grip again on her captive. "but I can't just take your word for it now can I? If I let you go, you could easily attack me couldn't you, and then I'd be at your mercy instead of you at mine. And if I gave you the bag, the only thing that guaranteed the fact that I would receive gil in the first place, you could easily make a run for it. Come now noble, you don't think I'm that naïve now do you?"

"Well you can't blame me for trying." Stephon muttered just loud enough for the thief girl to hear, deciding that small talk was the way to go, just to get her off her guard, or at least stall her until Talon realized his dearest brother was missing. Of course, then was the question of whether or not Talon would come back for him after realizing that he was missing, and in that case he would just have to trust his brother.

"Now..." Stephon continued, watching the knife that was being held to his neck carefully. "I must ask, what in the world is a girl like yourself doing as a pickpocket?"

That however, proved to be one of the worst questions he could have asked, as the girl tensed considerably at this.

"You think I chose this way of life that I live?" She growled. " Do you think that I wouldn't rather live a quiet life with the siblings I left behind all those years ago. Mark my words noble I didn't chose to become a thief. Fate chose me, and so this is where I am."

At this Stephon was silent. It was true, he had been branding them as all cunning sly tricksters who's joy lay only in stealing away the wealth of others for themselves. But the thought of people being forced to live that kind of life, put a new twist on things. Maybe the kingdom way decaying at a more rapid pace than he'd imagined, that from the inside, people who would once be working class farmers, merchants and fishermen were being transformed into thieves and beggars who lived in poverty. And without the workers to hold them up, the upper class would come crashing down. They wouldn't need to revolt. They wouldn't need the attacks of elves to speed up the process. They wouldn't need the mage attacks to do any more damage. On its own, Corneria had already begun the plummet to it's demise, as the last few beams that supported them began to give way.

An eerie silence crept over the vacant alleyway that seemed to last for hours on end. In reality it only lasted a few seconds, but it took only that few for the girl's grip on Stephon to become just loose enough to break away. Upon realizing this, a hopeful feeling rose in the knight's chest, but by noticing this he lost precious seconds. The girl however, seemed to be lost in thought for the moment, and barely took notice of the man's movements until he tore right out of her grip and she found herself with a longsword pointed at her neck.

"What?" She gasped upon realizing that her captive had escaped.. She looked from Stephon to the sword pointed at her with a look of shock on her face, before regaining her stance. "Slippery little devil aren't you?"

Stephon only smirked at her comment, staring triumphantly at her, and recognized her almost immediately as the same thief that had stolen the precious crystal that had been handed down to them from their father. But unfortunately for Stephon the moment didn't last long, because before long he felt a presence behind him, and upon glancing over his shoulder found a second thief, clad in similar garb to that of the girl, only with brunette hair and slightly darker skin.

And soon he realized, that there weren't two thieves, but three, and then four, and then five. In fact, it was a whole gang of them, all of which were female. They were quite literally coming out of the woodwork, until they surrounded the single knight, knives pointed to him threateningly.

Through this crowd, came one woman who looked quite a bit older than the rest of them, maybe in her late twenties, with black beautiful hair, tanned skin and an intoxicating smile, holding a knife made of mithril. She came right up to Stephon, looking at him and seeming quite amused. "Hmm.. well what do we have here?" She asked, in a cool smooth voice, and she turned to the blond girl who had captured him from before. " Very good Celeste, you may retreat to the back of the group if you wish."

Celeste nodded and fled back through the group, leaving Stephon with the black haired woman.

"So, we've caught ourselves a noble." She purred, walking slowly around him, and smiling devilishly. "So what do we do with him? Celeste's idea of a ransom would do nicely... but, then again what's the fun in that?" And she draped two slender arms tenderly around Stephon's neck, causing him to shiver. The woman herself was pretty, he'd give her that much, but her presence gave him an uneasy feeling. "So, what do we do with him?"

A low murmur had begun in the crowd of thieves, contemplating what would be done with their captive noble.

"We could keep him here until he cracks." The brunette finally piped up.

"Let's kill him now and strip him of his goods" Another blond suggested, and Stephon felt another chill run down his spine, practically praying that his brother would show up.

"Oh come now" A third protested, this one with red hair. "Lets just strip him of his goods and let him go!"

"No way" A fourth shouted through the crowd. "He'd come back with the royal guard and we'd all be hung!"

"How about we hang him and see how he likes it!" A fifth rang out, and a cheer was emitted from the crowd.

"We don't have enough rope though.. why don't we just burn him?" The fourth suggested, and the murmurs of the crowd had by now become an incredible din, each thief girl trying to suggest what to do with Stephon, the ideas ranging from the Elven water torture, to other types of bloodthirsty acts, to simply demanding a ransom of insane prices. All of them seemed horrible, but none of them seemed like they were willing to let him go in the end.

"Ladies!" The dark haired woman in the middle of the circle shouted over the din, which almost immediately ceased. "For the present moment he will remain alive." She announced, drawing quite a few disappointed moans from the circle. "However, after getting a hefty amount of gil in exchange for this man we will then have him hung and then cut down the man who was sent to retrieve him."

The crowd's reaction seemed to confirm the action, as a multitude of cheers came from the crowd of thieves. Stephon felt his heart sink as the thieves celebrated. _Maybe I should have followed Talon... or at least told him to follow me. Then maybe I'd have a chance. _He thought sadly, as the crowd continued to cheer. But then, over the cheers of the crowd, a voice, calling his name rang out.

"Hey Stephon! Is that you there?"

It was Talon! His brother had really come back for him, and hope filled him as he called back "Yeah! It's me!"

The whole crowd of thieves turned to face Talon now, even the dark haired woman who almost dropped her mithril knife upon hearing him, a look of concern flooding her face.

But despite his joy that his brother had arrived, two men weren't going to get past the gang of thieves. There were about 17 of them, and Stephon and Talon were only two men. They were outnumbered Eight to One, and on top of that Stephon was surrounded. But as the elder brother looked through the crowd of thieves, he realized that they weren't concerned because of the arrival of Talon, but because of the 10 soldiers he'd brought with him. All were clad in plate mail and sported swords of their own, and Stephon's heart sored when he caught sight of them. And for a moment, the two groups stood almost motionless, ready to attack, waiting for some kind of signal. Finally, the first move was made, with the uttering of the word "Charge!" on Talon's end. It took only a few seconds before the group of soldiers, Talon included, lunged at the gang of thieves. The young women in the group of thieves, however, proved to be more formidable than Stephon had expected. As it turned out, although their armor and equipment was vastly inferior to that of their own, they we're hard to touch in the first place, and didn't stay in a crowd as the brothers had expected, and as soon as the soldiers rushed at them they immediately ducked away in a hurry, so that little blood was spilled. In fact, they had only been able to get a stab at one, who had dodged away almost immediately, leaving her with only a non-fatal wound to the arm. In a matter of minutes the scene had irrupted into chaos, young women screaming and lashing out at soldiers who slashed away at the girls, while really cutting only the air. The alley had become a battle field, and he knew it would soon be strewn with bodies. Whether it would be that of the thieves or soldiers was unclear.

But through the crowd, past all the pandemonium of women, and soldiers, Stephon caught, out of the corner of his eye, one girl who hadn't lingered in the battle, and had already begun to run out of the alley way which would lead to the town square. _Celeste _He remembered the name that the dark haired woman had called her, and recognized her immediately. _She's the one with my... our crystal. _He thought bitterly, and before he realized what he was doing, he'd run pushed his way through the crowd, somehow managing to avoid being cut down by one of his own men, or one of the thieves, and took off after the thief girl who he'd been after in the first place, his only intention being to bring her to custody.

"H-hey wait!" The voice of Talon cried breathlessly from the crowd. "Stephon! Where are you...?"

Stephon gave no reply to his brother, not wanting to lost precious seconds as the thief girl grew farther and farther away. Footsteps behind him and the slight sound of armor rubbing together with a slight metallic sound told him that his brother had run after him, but he had no time to look back as he rounded another corner into the town square.

From there the girl dashed off towards a path that would lead to the entrance of the Great

Forest of Corneria if he followed it any longer. But quickly glancing around, he spotted a way across a field that would take him to the same path. _If I can get up there fast enough I can head her off. _He thought and quickly redirected his path down through the field.

"Stephon.. what are you... wait up for a second!" A slightly distressed and exhausted Talon cried from behind again, and soon the footsteps had stopped.

Stephon, of course, made no attempt to stop for his brother, only running faster as he saw the girl beginning to round the corner. His legs seemed to protest his every movement, his lungs screaming for some kind of breath, but he knew he only had a few more feet until he could head her off. Just as he began to think that he could run no more,k he burst onto the path, right behind Celeste now, and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards him and holding her to his chest brought his sword to her neck.

She immediately tensed at the contact, becoming stiff and rigid as the cold metal rested against her flesh.

"Give me the bag" Stephon demanded, tightening his hold slightly.

The girl slowly reached down to her waist, carefully, almost as if moving any faster would cause everything to fall out of place. Stephon watched her hand carefully, seeing it draw near to her knife. And it hovered there for a moment, as if she was contemplating weather to use it or not, but as Stephon pressed the blade of his sword closer to her neck, her hand flinched away, and grabbed the small velvet bag.

Stephon snatched the precious bag away from her as soon as she revealed it, not wanting the precious stone it contained to be in the clutches of a greedy thief girl like her.

By then, Talon had caught up to the two, panting hard, and just about able to draw his sword.

"So now." Stephon said in a mocking voice. "What do we do with our captive thief girl hmm?"

He smirked as the girl gave a small whimper, and seemed to shrink back in fear. And for a second, Stephon felt almost sorry for her, but he soon shook the feeling off. _She tried to kill me. _He reminded himself. _She stole from us, and then tried to kill me, and seemed to enjoy it too. She deserves more than this, and that she will get. _

"Should we hang her?" He continued, his smirk growing wider. " Or maybe just burn her at the stake."

For a second it struck Stephon as odd that his brother hadn't joined in tormenting the girl as well, but he couldn't be bothered with that. He brought his head down close to Celeste's ear, and now began to whisper to her.

"Of course.. we could just strip her of all valuables and let her go... but then what's the fun in that?" He went on. "I say we burn her.. what do you think Talon?"

"Let me go..." The Celeste hissed through her teeth. "I gave you your precious bag back, so let me go."

"Would you have let me go?" Stephon asked, maintaining his calm voice, and after a silence from Celeste's end he continued. "I didn't think so."

"H-hey.. Stephon?" Talon's voice interrupted Stephon's train of thought, but his scared, shaky tone that seemed foreign in his voice made him feel uneasy, and he directed his attention to his younger brother.

"I-I think I just found the mage we we're looking for." Talon said in a wary, quiet, tone, not even turning to face his brother. Stephon felt the blood drain from his face. _It.. it's here? Now? _He thought, a shiver running down his spine, but he soon shook off the feeling. _What are you so afraid of? _He scolded himself. _He might not even be able to put up a fight if we knock him out fast. _ But on the inside, he knew it probably wouldn't be an easy battle, and that flushing the mage out of hiding would be easier said than done. He'd unconsciously let go of the thief girl, and she'd sprinted off back into the city, but Stephon didn't care as much as he should have. A new challenge had arisen for them. A challenge, bother he and his brother somehow knew wouldn't be over as quickly as they'd hoped.

_**Alright, there you go for Chapter three. Kind of a cliffy there, but you find out what this is all about in chapter four.**_

_**As a final thought I really wish that they had a rating thing here, so even if people don't review or favorite my fic, I can at least know if people think it sucks or not. That'd be really neat, but it's just a muse so... meh.**_

_** Surfingpichu over and out**_


	5. Chapter 4: Reminiscing, Flashbacks,Magic

_**Alright, my fourth chapter is FINALLY up. **_**_I know, amazing isn't it. Thanks to Magic Noise(who is awesome),alescA Munroe, and surskitty (who is also awesome and who I already know has been reading this) for reviewing. _**

**_in response:_**

**_Magic Noise: Well.. you'll see what happens with Maric and Shane, they do manage to get into pretty big mess.XD And the rating system wouldn't even have to be mandantory, just to make it easier for people to leave feedback. (although... evil grin making it mandantory would be awesome.. hehehe..)_**

**_The only reason I made Elfland and Corneria at war was because they are the only two areas with castles, and monarchs. All the others are just little townships (which has always struck me as a little odd) _**

**_AlescA: Well, I'll work on it. XD I'm glad you like the chapters too._**

**_surskitty/Floop: Alrighty then. I made a lot of changes since the TSPH version (as I said) and I know the thing still isn't perfect ( though I'm trying to get it there) but then again, the title is 'less than perfect'. O.o; The thing, is it wasn't supposed to discribe my writing style.  
_**

Chapter 4: Reminiscing, Flashbacks, and yes, even more Magic

_The sun had held itself high that day, and the absence of rain had given me a slight shock when I realized what was happening. I had been told that rain always came when dramatic changes in your life took place, and if this wasn't a dramatic change I don't know what was. As if the sky itself was consoling you, even when no-one else would. But no-one cared for me I suppose, and even the sky mocked me that day, as I if I was completely deserving of what happened to me. Maybe I was. I know, that although the scars will heal and fade, that I will have to live, for now and forever, with what I've learned, what I've done, and what I almost did._

_As a a traitor that is my fate._

It was in the late hours of the night that Shane finally drifted away from the particularly disturbing dreams that had plagued him every night for the past few months. Or perhaps it was the earlier hours of the morning. It wasn't as if it really mattered though, for all he really knew at that moment, was that where ever he was, it was too bright for his liking, and that his whole body was aching horribly, except for his left arm which had gone completely numb, but despite all of this, he was also content with the fact that he was still alive, somehow. For a second he almost smiled. _Thank the gods someone is looking out for me. _He thought. _Somehow after all that I'm still alive, whether I particularly deserve it or not. _And for another split second, a feeling of triumph filled him, as though he'd defeated death in some way, even though it probably wasn't he himself that had defeated it in the first place, because his surroundings were far from familiar.

He found himself sitting in a small room, just about light by the sunlight. A bed was in one corner, and took up most of the room, it's bed sheets crumpled in a heap at its foot. In the remaining space assorted weapons were strewn across the floor. Most of them had become useless and dull, and lay amongst broken, wooden shields, and old staffs that had never seemed to be used by their owner.

Turning his attention back to the writing desk he realized that the black bottle of ink had tipped over during the night, and had spilled it's contents all over the desk. The black liquid had run over the writing desk, staining the wood and had covered a few pieces of parchment fully in black as well, and even his blue robes had been ruined even more by the substance.

"How.. did.. I.. end up here?" Shane wondered out loud, his own voice seeming foreign to him. He looked around one last time. _This is bad, isn't it? _He thought, panic beginning to prick at him. _I don't know where I am or how I got here. If I was taken here by a less than kind soul who was preparing to do away with me on his own,I'm done for. _It was true that this kind of thing happened to mages often. Sheer terror had by now taken hold of the black mage.

_I have to get out of here. _He thought, franticly rising from the chair. _I don't care if I'm unwanted. I don't care that my team mates want me dead. I'll change my name, my identity, I'll shed my magic and my identity as a mage. I don't want to die. I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. I-_

_A_s soon as the mage had scrambled away from the writing desk, a crippling pain flew through him like a bolt of electricity, and he crumpled to the ground, breath catching in his throat. The pain had augmented now, and although he'd instinctively tried to cry out, the lack of air had crushed the attempt, leaving him on the floor, almost totally silent, trying to regain his breath.

For a second he lay on the dirt floor, trembling violently from pain and fear, and gulping in air, but as soon as he could, he managed to collect himself, and get over the shock. _What am I going to do? _The question lingered in his mind. _I can barely move, I can't remember where I am or why I'm here. I don't even know who I'm at the mercy of, and only have my knife to defend myself._ Although, when he thought about it, he realized that _only _was an understatement. He'd always been skilled with his knife, which seemed to make up for his lack of skill with his magic.

_My knife... will I even be able to use it? _He wondered, and though it was of little importance before, his lacking magic would never hold him in a fight, and the feeling, or rather, lack of feeling in his left arm made him feel uneasy about getting into fights in the future, a fate that was almost inevitable for him.

He touched the small weapon's wooden handle gingerly with his right hand, and slid it out slowly, gently fingering the handle. He gazed into the iron blade, reflecting the sunlight's glare in an almost cold manner. It reflected the past with that glare. How he'd transformed skilled swordsmanship into merciless slaughter almost instantly. That was what it had been. Slaughter. The murder of the innocent, although then they hadn't been innocent in his eyes.

For the longest time, he'd thought it was their fault. That that was why his father died, and it was that rage that had fueled him to do those horrendous acts. By the time he realized what was really going on, it was too late. The lives couldn't be recovered, and he knew he'd always carry that weight in his heart.

_Tori. _The name of the girl he'd always cared too much about burst into his mind as it had so many times before. _She'd always been the person I knew I could confide in, and she confided in me as well. I told her everything, everything I knew. Even some things I'd kept from my own father I'd told her. I trusted her far too much, and I know I was a fool, but I also know if I had the chance to relive that part of life, I'd tell her just as much and more. _And he sighed for a moment, letting her fair features fill his mind. Long black, lanky hair that was almost always tied in a ponytail that ran down her back, slate gray eyes that always held some kind of humor in them, and a really gorgeous smile. Shane had really been one of the only people to see her truly, as her face, like his own, was always hidden beneath a tall steepled hat, but he always knew how lucky he'dbeen to know. It seemed like forever since he had last saw her, although in reality, it had probably been less than twenty-four hours ago that he'd last seen her.

In less than twenty-four hours, his life had turned upside down, and back, and after a whirlwind of events that had happened in a heart beat, he was left to somehow turn up here. Now came the time to try to reorient himself with his surroundings, and try to pick himself up and start from where he left off. Just as he'd always been told, and just as he'd always supposed he'd wind up doing in a situation like this. _Easier said than done I suppose. _He mused.

He looked around the room again. He could easily escape through the door, but he was just as easily be caught and possibly killed. There was, however, a window at the end of the room, letting in a stream of light. There was a chance, that if he could get out of the room through the open window he could easily escape. A new hope lit up inside the black mage as he stared out the window, the chance to cheat death a second time.

Shane slowly reached up for the writing desk a second time, now feeling a bit stronger, and pulled himself up, using it as a support. Of course, this came with quite a bit of difficulty at first, but once his limbs stopped screaming in protest, he eventually was able to get a grasp on staying upright.

_Less than twenty-four hours brought me here. _He thought._ Less than fifteen minutes was enough to send my life spiraling out of control. _He gazed out he single window in the back of the room. _Less than five minutes could be enough time for me to escape impending doom given some luck, and a bit more strength. Then again, when have I ever had any of those things?_

He looked once more around the room. There had to be something, anything that could help him to escape. The window at the back of the room was open, and just about big enough to climb out of, but it was far too high up for him to scale it in the state he was in. If there was something he could use to gain some height or use for leverage there was a chance of getting out.

There were the bed and writing desk, but those would be to heavy and he would never be able to move them to the window. Other than that the room was fairly bare, except for the pile of old weapons that sat in the far right hand corner of the room. For a second, his eyes lingered on the old staffs in the pile._ Maybe, if could use one of those as a boost I'd be able to get up. _He thought, brightening up, but as he approached the pile, and reached out to grab one of the old weapons, but the numbness in his hand suddenly reminded him, that to use the staff at all to get out, he'd have to have full use of both hands.

Defeated, he slumped back down against the wall, the glimmer of hope he'd once held, flickering out just as suddenly as it had burst to life. He glanced to his left arm again, pulling back the torn sleeve, and eying his inner forearm carefully. A long, neat scar that went all the way from his upper forearm to his wrist had formed, probably from a quick healing spell. He ran his fingers down it gingerly, remembering why he had gotten it.

_Tellerman you're a fool. _He scolded himself. _Why even bother trying to escape from death? Nobody wants you anyway, and even if you did escape what would you do? _He sighed again. _I know I had said that if I got the chance, I'd tell people what had really happened in those few years, but now, I don't think I'd be able to. Knowing that I would be killing those who were the closest to me. Even though they wanted me dead._

He Fingered his knife in his right hand again. There was, of course, an obvious way out of this situation, of all situations. What seemed like the best course of action, to silence himself now, in the most painless way possible, before he caused any more pain, or was killed in a more violent manner. It wasn't going to be a painless way in itself, but it was better than being hung, and better than what his comrades would do if they ever caught him.

He put his knife to his wrist. One short swift movement, that was all it would take. Then he wouldn't have to worry anymore. But suddenly, a noise interrupted him.

Footsteps, soft and light, just barely audible from behind the door, but slowly becoming louder and nearer. Shane's heart leaped into his throat, and an adrenaline rush pushed him to his feet, knife still in his hand, trembling in fear. He didn't really know why he was suddenly so afraid now, as a moment ago he;d been contemplating suicide. Maybe he was still afraid to die. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to do it anyway.

He stepped back a few paces from the door as the footsteps grew ever nearer, clutching his only weapon stiffly in his hand, his eyes wide with fear, dreading what would happen when the door opened. He would have liked nothing more than to flee at that moment, to get out of there, and for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, cheat death, but he was frozen to the spot, unable to move, just standing there helplessly, clutching his knife in his hand stiffly, and knowing he'd never be able to use it.

The footsteps stopped abruptly, and the door swung open almost casually, and Shane never took his eyes off the door. A young man, dressed all in red, including his hat and cape, stepped into the room, almost tentatively and almost jumped back when he saw the black mage there.

The young man had pure white hair, despite his youthful face, and gray-green eyes that were for the moment full of shock, but the thing that stood out to Shane the most in that moment of time, was the rapier that hung on his belt, that could easily be pulled at any time.

Shane panicked at that moment, flinching backwards as soon as he saw the door open, and the man stepped into the room and he took no time to assess the situation. There was only one thought that lingered in his mind now. _I have got to get out of here. _He gripped the knife tightly in his hand, knowing there was only one clear option, one way out. And it was dangerous, but it was the only way that guaranteed escape.

Unfortunately that was the only thing it guaranteed.

For a second a name flickered into his mind. _Maric. _He could connect it to the face of the young man, and a voice, Maric's voice, asking him casual questions in a frantic voice. The man who had saved his life, and as he made his move, he realized it had been yet another terrible mistake.

* * *

Everything happened so quickly in those three seconds, that Maric was left for almost a minute longer trying to assess what had just happened. Blood was dripping down his shoulder, though it blended in with his all red outfit, and an almost blinding pain had engulfed his entire arm. He dropped to his knees, and for a second, nothing seemed to make sense. Could the mage have really meant to harm him? His mind wouldn't let him believe it at first, he just couldn't, but as he thought on it, it became clear what had happened, how foolish he had really been.

A knife clattered to the ground, after leaving it's mark it had fallen out, and Maric's own blood covered it. It had been held only seconds ago in the hands of the mage that he'd saved the life of. That he had brought into his home, and used his own magic to heal the wounds of.

Only hours ago the very same mage had been apologizing for being a burden, had tried several times to refuse his help altogether. That same mage had told him of his father, how he'd wanted to follow in the footsteps of the wizard who's life had been cut short. That same mage had pledged him his life. That same mage had lunged at him, knife in hand, and had made a stab at him before running out the front door as fast as he could, leaving Maric stunned. It had been pure luck that the blow hadn't been fatal. Could it be possible that the mage had been lying?

_Of course it's possible. _He answered himself, slamming his fist into the ground. _I've been a fool. I suppose I'd have taken in any man and his brother with a sob story, and the word 'murderer' engraved in his forehead. _

He sighed, blocking out reality for just a moment and casting a quick cure spell on himself, to heal the wound the mage had given him, and got to his feet. He look through the now open door of his room, and stared out where the mage had run. He had almost been frantic, the way he had sped out of there, but Maric had no idea what his true intentions had been. He feared the worst, that the mage was planning to gather again with his comrades and make the small village of people their next helpless victims.

_Maybe it's something else. _Another voice pleaded inside of him. _Maybe his intentions aren't to cause harm. _But a second later, he dismissed the thought. That was the same train of thought that had almost gotten him killed. Now was the time to try trusting his first intuition, instead of second guessing himself.

_He's only a child. A single child. _He thought again, giving another shifty look to the open door. _How much harm could he do?_

But as he thought on the situation, the danger that the one boy posed suddenly multiplied. _He could have some allies out there. _He thought. _They could be planning an attack. Now that he's in the town, how long could it take before the whole thing is in flames? What if it's a collaboration, a grand scheme to attack Corneria. _The list could go on and on, but he had no time to think on it. Now was a time for action. _I have to try to warn someone about this. _But as he took off in the direction of the door, the earth rolled right out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground with a resounding thud.

There was no time to figure out what had caused him to trip, but as he recovered his knocked over one of the piles of retired weapons in the corner. _Stay focused you fool,_ _he could be gone by now. _Maric scolded himself. _Just get out there._

He took off in a sprint towards the front door of his cabin, and emerged from the hut into the bright sunlight on the grass covered hill. Though he could see a good portion of the town from there, the mage was no-where in sight. Slowly his hopes began to sink even further than they had been. He'd lost the mage, and didn't know where he was going. There would be no way to catch up to him now, even if he was still in bad condition.

But from over on a dirt pathway, at the bottom of the hill, a voice could be heard. "H-hey Stephon, I-I think I've just found the mage we were looking for."

Maric froze. As he looked down the hill he could see two members of the Cornerian guard starting up the hill toward him, one was large and stocky with brown hair, and the other was of lighter complexion, with blond hair and a slighter build. _Could they be talking about Shane? _He asked himself._ Or are they looking for me?_ It wasn't exactly a well known fact that he knew how to cast magic, but he was noted as one of the more odd people in town. Rumors spread fast, and he knew that people often would talk about him, and give him shifty looks as he passed. _They... people don't take me... as a threat to society. Do they?_ He shivered involuntarily, thinking of the mages again, of Shane and his father, of his Uncle, Rachen. The law wasn't known to discriminate, but did that mean he could be mistaken as a criminal as well?

_Try to act as natural as possible._ He instructed himself, and tried as hard as he could to look less terror stricken. _Maybe they won't recognize me as a mage and leave me be. Maybe this is all a mistake._

"Wh-what seems to b-be the problem officers?" He called down to them as they advanced, his throat suddenly dry.

"We've spotted a black mage in this area." The blond haired man called back. "We are just here to take him into custody. If...you would allow us to that it." His tone of voice secretly seeming to say "Or if you really want it, we can take the both of you."

_Shane. _Maric thought, almost sadly, _So it was him, he was a criminal after all. Maybe he tried something like this before._ He nodded to the officers and turned to leave, slowly walking back to his little hut at the top of the hill. But, he oddly felt almost relieved to be done with the mage. Now that the ordeal was over, he wouldn't have to worry about either his welfare or Shane's.

But the red mage also felt remorse. He couldn't explain it, why he would feel like that about someone who'd only minutes earlier made an attempt on his life. The bond he'd felt to the mage the night before had returned. In fact, it had never left. He was attached to him, and the thought of the mage's death was almost devastating. _He was supposed to be a light warrior. _He thoughtI_ was supposed to be a light warrior. I could have sworn that I felt it, a kind of bond connecting two lost souls that all of Gaia needed to find each other. I guess I had put all my hopes for the future into that notion. The notion of four light warriors to save the world from darkness. Our planet is slowly dieing under us, I know it, and... there really isn't anything we can do about it. In reality, there never was._

Before he realized it he was back in his hut, headed for his room. He only then realized that he'd been in a daze, over a matter so insignificant. _Mages die all the time. _He assured himself, though half heartedly._ He was a criminal, so he got what was coming for him, and all the mages like him. It's not like I could have helped him,he was an outcast and a misfit._

He entered the small room at the back of the hut, and still lost in though, began to idly toss the old weapons he'd knocked over earlier back into a pile in the corner. A vague feeling of guilt pricked at him as he went through the small pile, sorting out staffs and swords that had been stripped of value from use. _He was still a child._ He thought, suddenly feeling horrible about himself. _Maybe frightened, maybe just confused, maybe angry at me, but none the less, his eyes held no malice, and I'm inclined to think his heart was the same._

As Maric worked he only felt more and more guilty, flooded with the pain of thinking on the adolescent mage, the way he'd seemed so innocent, and so determined to show Maric that he meant no harm. But he didn't know that his intentions hadn't been to cause harm either.

His hand brushed an object, unfamiliar to touch at the moment. A piece of parchment lying on the ground, amongst the pile of weapons that had fallen to the floor from the writing desk. The same one he'd found Shane sleeping on the night before, though how he'd gotten there was still a mystery to him. Grabbing the paper and standing up he examined it. It was in fact, a letter, written in rushed, shaky, cursive, in dark black ink. The words had run together in several places, making it almost completely illegible. But though he shouldn't have cared about something so insignificant, a single fact made the finding of a letter an odd even in turn. Maric didn't know anyone who could read. Anyone, that is, except for Shane, whom he had just met and could very well be literate.

He scanned the page quickly, though he'd never truly been taught how to read, he had studied several different spell scrolls, and had managed to pick out characters that were pronounced similarly in some of the magic languages to that of his own. Matching the characters together with the pronunciation of words in the common language, he'd learned basically how to decipher written text, though it was more like decoding than reading, it was better than complete illiteracy.

Though he didn't read through the whole letter, he got the jist of it. Apparently, Shane had managed to awaken in the middle of the night and had written a letter to his deceased father, Wyatt. According to what Maric could understand of it, he was planning to flee from the town as soon as the morning broke, so as to keep a few former comrades from finding and killing him.

_So I was right. _Maric thought as he let the piece of parchment fall to the floor, feeling almost breathless. _He was running from someone who had made an attempt on his life. And what I had thought was an attempt to kill me was really an attempt to escape, and protect the both of us._

He turned to the door, his eyes widened in horror. _And I've just condemned him to death._

Casting one last nervous glance to the letter, Maric turned, running as quickly as possible out the door, out of the hut, and down the hill. The two guards were still visible from there, struggling to subdue the now thoroughly terror stricken black mage, who was struggling feebly against their grip. Without even thinking he'd launched into the incantation of a fire spell, and with a cry of the word "Fire!" Maric sealed his own fate, and revealed himself as a user of the dark magics.

Red and golden plumes of magical fire, licked up as soon as the word was uttered, burning bright and wild, and casting an eerie shadow over the Red Mage and his foes .Both of the men jumped back in surprise, turning to Maric, awestruck. But awe soon turned to determination, and the two lunged straight at him, swords drawn, leaving go of the poor black mage who was still standing there dazed.

In reply Maric drew his own rapier, and met the two swords dead on. The dark haired man flinched back on the impact, but the blond only lunged at him again, giving Maric only just enough time to raise the guard of his sword to meet the blow. By then the dark haired man had swung his broadsword around and he countered with the rapier's blade. But this opened him for an attack from the other man, and he was stuck guarding from the attack of the dark haired man.

He paled, his world beginning to spin for a moment. _I've lost. _He thought. _This is really it, I'm about to die. _Now all there was to do was to brace himself for the end, and the blade of his foe's sword was raised. But for how ever long he'd waited for it, the end never came. "_Sleep_" Came the half whispered word from a familiar voice. The two men stopped dead, and dropped their weapons, and Maric spun around, and was only half surprised when she saw Shane, almost directly behind him, arms still outstretched, staring at him, looking almost bewildered himself.

The two men fell to the ground limply around him, Maric let his guard drop, and Shane in turn dropped his arms. But the black mage looked blank, almost as if in a trance. Or maybe not blank, rather than afraid. But of what?

There was no time to waste for the two mages, however, since a sleep spell would wear off in only a little while, giving them just enough time to run away as fast as they could in hopes that they would give their enemies the slip.

"Come on!" He cried, running toward the black mage,and grabbing onto his arm as he ran. The Mage obediently complied, running along with the red mage, as the two ran off into town.

* * *

"I-I think I just found the mage we're looking for!"The dark haired man, Talon, stuttered to his brother, wide eyed and pale.

_Mage? _The word echoed in the mind of the thief ominously, and the color drained almost completely from her face. _There are black mages here? In the village? _The thought of something like that was almost as devastating as to be doomed to death, maybe worse. The thought of the sheer malevolence that could be confined to that one embodiment. Those creatures meant only death.

_No. _She told herself. _It doesn't have to be a black mage. He didn't say anything about a black mage. _

She shook herself of the thought. _Why am I so worried about this now? _ She wondered, almost in disbelief at herself. _This seriously isn't the time. _And with the situation she'd gotten herself into, this was almost obvious. A second member of the Cornerian Knights, Stephon, had her captive, one hand around her waist and another holding a sword dangerously close to her neck. Only a second ago he'd been tantalizing her by pretending to contemplate how to do away with her. Just as she had only moments ago. _Odd how the tables can turn eh?_

But now, as soon as Talon had uttered those words, the other knight pailed. His grip, on her relaxed considerably, and he almost let his sword fall from it's place, his expression one of almost terror. But though she was just as afraid as Stephon was, she had other ambitions. _It's now or never._ She realized, remembering how Stephon had so easily slid out of her reach when she'd had him in a similar position. That one fluke that had ended up costing her the lives of her comrades and could cause her to lose hers as well. _I'm not about to let that happen to me. _ The thief girl slipped right out of the knight's grip like butter, but even as she did Stephon seemed to make no sign of protest.

She almost immediately took off down the dirt pathway, glancing back only once to take a look at her captor's face. A look of genuine fear was frozen on his face as he stared up the grassy hill, his eyes fixed on the shed that his brother was alluding to. It was as if he barely noticed she had gone. _All the better for my own sake. _She thought, and began to run farther into the small city, to search for the remains of her group, hoping for the sake of everyone that not too many lives had been claimed in the fray.

_Oh what have I done? _She asked herself. _This wasn't supposed to happen this way._ The girl ran back into the ally way that served as their "thieves hideout". Celeste had only truly been a thief for a few years. After she and her husband had moved for their hometown in Pravoka to Corneria for a better shot at making a living, he'd been killed in a mining accident when a shaft collapsed and buried him and three other miners under the debris. The career in the mythril mines hadn't been the safest of them, but it was the only thing they could have done to get pay.

She hadn't been particularly in love with her husband, as is the case in most arranged marriages, but she and him had had an understanding, and they got along fine. When he died that cut off the only source of income she'd had, and she had no way of making money for herself and had no children of her own.

It was in that predicament, cold, alone, and still in shock over her husband's death, that she had been taken in by the gang of women thieves, when she basically had begged for their support, and she would become a thief, and be the best that she could be. In the end they'd let her in, weather they'd really seen something in her, or had just done so out of pity, she still didn't know, but whichever they had intended she was there, and had been for almost two years. And she was desperate to aid them in any way that she could. What she had never intended, was to make things so much worse.

She rounded the last corner, and came to the place where the battle was taking place. As she did, her stomach turned over. It was a scene of complete and utter chaos. Bodies lay everywhere, some of the soldiers and some of her teammates, some lay dead on the hard cobblestone road, and others lay weakened or bleeding, some trying to limp away. The battle was still raging, but they were surrounded. The Cornerian army had called in for more troops when the thieves began to overwhelm them, and now, exhausted and wounded, her comrades had nowhere to go. Janice, Kate, and their leader Loreli, they would all end up dead. _All because of me. _Celeste thought, a lump rising in her throat.

"_It's only a game Celeste." _She could still hear Janice's voice in her ears. In fact, minutes before she, Kate, and Janice had all just been loitering around, looking for something to do. For some mischief to start. The three of them were closer to each other than to anyone else, from the moment that they'd met. It was almost like a bond that they'd shared. Janice, a blond girl of about eighteen years of age with some particularly mannish features had been the first to bring up the idea of a little game.

_It would only be for some fun, to occupy some time, and make a little profit as well. All they would have had to do was to point out a man for the other to try to steal something from, from something as insignificant as a button, to the hat from atop their head. _

"_It doesn't matter what you steal as long as it's something," Janice explained, leaning up against one of the walls of a local bar. "I'll pick out the first person to go for, and from then on, the last person to successfully steal something gets to chose the next.. victim so to speak."_

_Kate, a pretty fifteen year old girl, who looked far older than she really was, with long dark hair, and fair light skin, giggled as she eyed the crowd. Celeste only had to catch her eyes once to know exactly what she was planning._

"_It has to be a material possession Kate." Janice sighed, she too had realized what her course of action would be. "Stealing hearts and kisses don't count."_

"_I'll think of something" Kate replied, smiling devilishly. _

_Celeste sighed, leaning up against the wall with Janice."So, now what exactly is the point of this?" She asked dismally. Janice was always too energetic, and sometimes Celeste wished she could just relaxed. Sometimes it was just too much._

"_Well.. first of all I'm bored." Janice replied almost giddily. "And second of all we are supposed to be trying to get more money, and this is a good way to stimulate it."_

_Celeste gave Janice a dry look. "Can't we just steal stuff?" She asked, her tone of voice matching her eyes, and basically everything she was feeling at the moment._

"_Come on Celeste." Kate said nudging her friend playfully. " It'll be fun." And she chuckled again in a mischievous way. _

"_I'll even go first." Janice said smiling. "Kate, see any worthwhile 'participants'?" And her eyes also held a mischievous glint._

_Kate gave a small chuckle again, and scanned the crowd quickly. "Hmm how about..." But as she scanned the crowd her face fell. "I.. I don't know." She admitted finally, looking a little disappointed. _

"_I'll pick someone out for myself then I guess..." Janice replied dutifully, now beginning to scan the crowd. "Hmm how about..."_

"_How about him." Celeste finally broke in, pointing to a man in his mid-thirties, with neatly cropped dark hair and a heavy build who was pushing a cart full of fruit and calling out advertisements. _

"_I thought you didn't want to play Celeste." Kate chided, giving her another playful nudge._

"_Well I never said that" Was her reply, as she slowly half-glided over to her dark haired friends, and put her chin on her shoulder in a lazy, cat-like manner. "Besides it's hardly fair that Janice gets to pick her own victim, we all know that she's good at finding the weaklings."_

"_Well what kind of fun would that be?" Janice asked, and added in a pompous voice. "I accept your challenge though Celeste. Shall we shake on it?"_

"_Just take the guy's money." Celeste replied dryly, earning a giggle from Kate._

_Janice smiled, again, and turned to the man who was now almost rounding the corner. Almost immediately she was gone, and had evaporated into the crowd. Celeste looked on, trying to watch, but she had almost completely lost sight of her friend. Janice had always been a great thief, better than she would ever be, and she knew it. And she also knew she would never take to thievery like Janice had._

_The girl, after a few seconds, appeared back amongst them a few minutes later, clutching a handful of gil._

"_You would swear the man is in a trance or something, he barely noticed me." She muttered, shivering. "But oh well, I've got the gil, and thats all that counts. Now, Kate it's your turn, and you don't have to steal gil you know, you can..."_

"_Take anything material, we know." Kate finished dryly. "You really talk too much, you know that?"_

"_And you flirt too much." Janice shot back matter-of-factly, completely ignoring Kate as she shot a glare at her. "As for your challenge...how about... him." And the tomboyish thief pointed a finger at a lost looking man, with short blond hair, looking utterly lost and almost afraid of the small town in it's fairly crowded afternoon rush._

_As soon as she saw this, Kate's usual sly smirk grew into a devious smile, and only a second later, Celeste realized why, and was sure the color drained from her face. The man was wearing white robes with red triangles patterned down his sleeves and across the edges on the fabric, the signature type of robes that a white mage wears, and a large wooden staff was clutched in his right hand, which he was gripping cautiously, as if ready to strike anyone who came near him with it and then run as fast as he could, and the assortment of charms and beads around his neck._

"_Cakewalk." Kate whispered confidently, and then began to walk confidently over to the white mage. Celeste's heart gave a leap, and she only just stifled the urge to call out to her friend and tell her to stop. Celeste was terrified of mages, and absolutely horrified by magic of any type. It didn't matter what a spell did or was being used for, the thought of a person with the ability to use to forces of nature around them to do their own bidding was enough to make her skin crawl thinking about it. _They should just prohibit the use of magic everywhere. _She always thought. _  
Then everything can at least be natural.

_Kate had only just approached the white mage now, though he didn't seem to be paying the slightest bit of attention to her. It was only when she tapped his shoulder lightly that he whipped around, brandishing his staff readily, with a look of pure shock on his face._

_Kate was barely fazed by his reaction and calmly cooed. "Calm down boy, I wont hurt you."_

_The mage relaxed a little, but this calm was short lived as Kate continued. " I've seen a lot of you... magic users down around here. And I've always been intrigued by the way you do it."_

_She had now walked around behind the white mage, who was now becoming tense again, and draped her arms around his neck gracefully. In fact, everything about the thief was graceful, and she could just as easily been a dancer. The same couldn't be said about the white mage, who promptly stiffened at her touch _

"_Th-the way we d-do what?" The white mage only just managed to stutter._

"_The was you managed to steal my heart away with your spells, and seal it away where only you could open it up again, and bring me out. Where only you could be the man I want." She was now almost yelling, her voice raised, and she took the time to grab one of the many charms that dangled around his neck and pocketed it as she spoke. _

"_Cast away your robes and I'll cast away my chains." She now demanded. "Now be mine and only mine as I am yours and only yours, and kiss the woman who's heart yearns for you. Heal the wounds you yourself have created that no magic will ever be able to cure!"_

_With that the white mage, his face now redder than a hot pepper, pulled out of the thief's grip. "I- I really h-have to g-get going now." With that he turned tail and ran away as fast as he could._

_Kate laughed out loud as soon as he was out of ear shot, and turned to approach Celeste and Janice with a triumphant smile. "I told you it would be easy." She said smiling, and held out the stolen charm necklace with a look of triumph on her face. _

"_You can stop holding your breath now." Janice whispered to Celeste, jabbing her elbow into her arm. Celeste flinched away, giving out a stifled gasp, and only then realized that she had been just about as tense as the white mage had been and about as pale as he had been red._

"_I know you don't like mages Celeste," Kate said looking the girl over. "but you need to lighten up. A white mage isn't going to hurt you. He didn't even do any magic." _

"_I know... but..." Celeste sighed, the girls wouldn't understand her, she didn't even understand herself. " uhh.. it's my turn right?"_

_Kate nodded sagely. " And guess who picks your target."_

"_You do?" Celeste said in a monotone. Kate and Janice were really all over the game, but Celeste couldn't get into it. She knew that she would just make a fool out of herself._

"_Bingo!" Kate squealed "And you're going to steal from... him." Celeste was sure she paled even more when she saw the man Kate had pointed to than when she saw the mage. _

_The man she'd pointed to was a rich looking, armor clad knight, with a burly build and dark lanky hair. He and a second knight were sitting near a building, facing away from the three thieves, and both of them were carrying long swords on their leather belts. The man Kate had pointed to also had a small pouch on his belt, that seemed to be holding a heavy small substance, most likely gil, and a lot of it._

" _Are you crazy Kate?" Celeste half-shouted half whispered so that the two men didn't hear her. "How can you expect me to approach those guys?"_

"_I'm just kidding Celeste" Kate laughed. "I'm not that mean, I know you can't steal from someone like that."_

"_Yeah." Janice agreed "That would be way too hard, especially for a novice."_

"_A novice?" Celeste echoed, the words had stuck to her as soon as her friend had uttered them. Sure Janice was better than she was, but she was no novice, not after all of the time she'd spent thieving. "Did you just call me a novice?"_

"_Well I couldn't call you experienced." Janice replied. "You're still pretty good.. but..."_

"_Are you saying I couldn't steal from them?" Celeste retorted. "Are you saying I'm bad at thievery."_

"_Well you just said that a few seconds ago." Kate pointed out, but Celeste didn't want to hear it._

"_I bet I can steal from them. I'll prove to you that I'm not a novice." Celeste announced, earning only cries of protest from her friends._

"_You can't, Celeste." Janice cried. "You'll get murdered! Those guy's are armed."_

" _You don't think I can but I can." Celeste replied. "I just want to try. It'll take two seconds and they wont know what hit them. They will ever get to use their swords, and even if they do catch me I have my knife."_

"_Your little knife against their swords?" Kate asked. "You would have to be crazy to attempt..."_

"_well maybe I am." Celeste shot back. And she started off towards the two men. _I'll show them how much of a novice I am. _She thought bitterly, her only thoughts being to prove them wrong._

"_I'll send for backup." Janice said, her tone worried and almost distressed, but Celeste payed her no heed. _I wont need it. _Celeste thought._

_She approached the man cautiously, and as she drew closer her confidence was swayed. _Am I really going to do this? _She thought as she grew ever closer to the two knights. _Can I really steal without being caught?

_She shook the thought off, looking to the men again ,and the small leather pouch at his waist, her prize. _No turning back now. _She thought. Sweat was beading on her forehead now, and her heart was racing. She quickly swooped down and snatched the bag right off of his belt with ease, and her heart gave a leap. The man had flinched. He knew of her presence,she had been caught. _It's all over. _She thought, her knees were shaking now and her palms were sweating. Beads of moisture were also pouring down her pale, terror stricken face. She closed her eyes, and waited for the voice of the man to come. But as she stood there, barely breathing and waiting for the end to come with her eyes shut tightly, she realized that nothing was happening. The man hadn't noticed her. She nearly let out a sigh of relief, but she held her composure. All she would need would be to blow it now._

_Quietly she turned around and began to walk off when a sharp voice cried out. " Stop right there!" Celeste froze and spun around slowly, not even having to know what was awaiting her. She came face to face with the dark haired man, who was glaring sternly at her, his sword poised to run her through at any second. A second, smaller blond haired man joined him, with his own sword pulled as well._

_The thief girl finally spun around and made a mad dash for the thief's hideout, hoping and praying that Janice and Kate had gotten some backup after all. _

_Why, why did I have to get so fired up over nothing? _She asked herself as she stared at the fray. It had all started up because of what should have been a game.

The girls kept on shouting, the soldiers kept on slashing, and the warriors on both ends kept on fighting. _They're all going to die._ Celeste thought miserably. _There's no way they'll be able to get through all those men. _Another scream was heard as another one of her comrades, her allies, her friends, was cut to the ground by a nameless, faceless, stony cold soldier. Another young girl full of life wiped away by that of a faceless golem. It had to stop. It had to.

_But how? _

Her mind suddenly rushed back to the two men, the guards who had forced her into this hell. Stephon, and Talon, the guards, who had been looking for a black mage when they captured her, and found it when she had broken free. If there was anything that royals and guards hated more than thieves, it was mages, and in a village of highly flammable structures, a single black mage could mean the death of millions. In this case it could also mean saving the life of her teammates.

"Black mage!" Celeste screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to sound as frantic as possible and get their attention. "There's a black mage in the village! There's a black mage in the village!"

The fighting slowed to a stop as the words were uttered, and a tense silence hung in the air for a moment or two. The soldiers exchanged looks for a second before one man yelled, "Retreat!" and they scattered, leaving the gang of thieves still battered and weak in the ally.

What was left was a devastating sight to see.

Other girls from the gang had joined the brawl while she had been away, so they had numbered to almost thirty or forty. That hadn't been enough to fend off the soldiers, however, and each and every one of them had suffered at least a few crippling blows. Most of them weren't as lucky.

Celeste scanned the remains of the ally that looked now more like a battle field, her heart was pounding hard, her face had gone completely pale, as she gazed upon the devastation, the murder, that had taken place. For a second, she just stood there, frozen in horror, not knowing if she should look for her closest allies amongst the bodies, or if she would regret it when she discovered what had become of them.

_Janice _Their names flooded into her mind. _Kate, are they, are they alright? _Her breath caught in her throat. _They could be gone. _She thought._ Because of me._

"Kate, Loreli, Janice!" Celeste called as she half stumbled through the remains of her gang, trying to cite out the three people she was closest to, and the woman she owed her life to. "Loreli! Kate! Where are you?"

"Celeste?" A voice called from behind her, and though it was written with fatigue and sadness, just the sound of a voice was enough to make her heart leap with joy. "Celeste are you okay?"

Celeste turned to face her comrade, Janice, a dark haired fair skinned young woman with short hair and a tomboyish figure. She was overjoyed to see her friend and ally, but she felt so ashamed of herself for starting and running from the battle she wasn't sure that she would be able to face her.

"Janice I'm... I'm so sorry I.." Celeste began, as she stood there, her heart seeming to contract from the shame and disgrace she felt.

"Save it Celeste." Janice interrupted her. " You're in enough trouble with Loreli as it is. I really can't believe you sometimes. You really need to know when to stop, you know that? You could have just taken it. You could have listened to us for once. But no, you just had to try to prove yourself."

"Maybe if your ego wasn't so inflated I wouldn't have." Celeste shot back. She truly was sorry that she'd started the fray, but she knew that Janice was the type to beat down on her. "You could just keep your mouth shut sometimes. It's not impossible."

"Just stop Celeste." Janice said. "I don't want to hear it."

"Well maybe I don't either." Celeste retorted. Janice never got off her case for anything,but now something seemed off. Janice never resisted a chance to exercise her ego, or to put someone down. Why she was suddenly lay off now was a mystery to her.

"Seriously just stop!" Janice cried, and the way her face suddenly fell, in pain and sorrow confirmed that something was out of place.

"What happened Janice?" Celeste asked, her tone now soft.

Janice shook her head, as if even she had been muted by the event. She sank down to her knees, putting her head in her hands, and let out a soft sob.

"What is it?" Celeste asked again, now feeling a bit scared. Janice never cried. Celeste had never seen her cry over anything, or even show any form of sadness. Whatever could have happened to be that devastating to Janice was most definitely something to be feared.

"Kate is dead." Janice managed to choke out.

The words pierced through her like a million knives. A horrible, crippling blow that numbed the girl's scenses and threw everything out of balance for those few seconds. "_Kate is dead." _ It couldn't be true. Kate had been so full of life, so happy only hours ago. They had been laughing and talking and everything had been fine. Everything had been almost perfect. As perfect as it ever could have been, and as perfect as it would be. Then those life changing words came, spoken from the mouth of one of her only friends, that her only other friend in the world was gone forever.

"no..." Celeste managed to whisper, but nothing more than that word. She stared at Janice with disbelieving eyes, not being willing to admit that what she had said was true.

"She's gone.. dead.." Janice said again, the words seeming to hurt her as they were uttered. But the brunette lifted her head once again and glared at Celeste through red puffy eyes on a tear stained face, and for that moment, her eyes held more fire than she had ever thought could burn. "It's your fault Celeste. You killed her! You murdered her!"

Celeste stepped back away from Janice, her heart racing. For that second she didn't know the girl, the girl who had once been her friend had been replaced by an incarnation of hatred and malevolence.

"murderer..." She growled glaring at Celeste, and looking just about ready to attack her, although she never did.

Celeste spun around and ran at that, as fast as she could down the ally again, not caring where she was going or what happened.

Janice suddenly turned around, as if she'd only now realized what she'd been saying, and called in a desperate tone. "Celeste wait! I didn't mean it I.." But Celeste was too upset to head her friend's voice, and her thoughts had already consumed her.

_I am a murderer. _She thought as bitter tears streamed down her face. _I killed her, it's my fault she's dead so I basically killed her. How could I have been so stupid. Janice is right, it is my fault. All my fault.. all my fault..._

But as she ran, she suddenly slammed right into a solid object, and was sent flying. She hit the ground hard and felt a sharp pain rush through her right arm like fire. She closed her eyes in pain, and gave a small cry.

"Oh my goodness!" A voice exclaimed. "I-I didn't see you there, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Celeste tried to prop herself up, but a sharp pain rushed through her arm again and she fell back to the ground. Her whole arm was engulfed in a new sensation of throbbing pain, and she only wished that it would stop. "Doesn't anyone ever watch where they're going?" She snapped at whoever she had run into. "Would it kill you to keep an eye open for once.. my goodness it's as if.."

But as she finally managed to open an eye to look at who had ran into her, her voice caught in her throat and she could have sworn her heart stopped. A black mage stood there looking on at her with two glowing yellow orbs as eyes, clad in a torn bloodstained robe and with a straw pointed hat atop his head concealing his face. He was standing behind a second man, clad all in red with a matching red hat that had a white feather protruding from it. The man had long white hair, and was standing over her with an expression of worry on his face.

"What's wrong?" The black mage asked, taking a step forward. "Are you alright? You seem pale."

"You.. you're.. a-a..."She stammered, the only two words that could easily describe the thing that stood before her lost. And she stared at him with a look of sheer terror written all over her features. Again she tried to pull herself to her feet, but as she moved a third, equally potent jolt of pain rushed through her arm and forced her to the ground again, at the mercy of the two men.

"S-somebody help!" She finally screamed, and the two men jumped back, exchanging anxious glances. "Th-there's a...a..."

"Sleep!" The trigger word of a spell was uttered from the black mage, who stood looking anxious, with his arms outstretched. The thief girl never got to finish her sentence, for as soon as the word had been uttered, a wave of exhaustion hit her like a flood, in an almost nauseating way. The scene began to blur, and she could barely see the two men as they began to run past.

_Magic.. _Celeste thought, her insides twisting, though because of the newly found sensation of exhaustion she couldn't express it. It certainly didn't feel natural, and she'd always known it probably wouldn't, but she'd never had a spell cast on her before, and she hadn't expected it to feel this sickening, as if a hand had literally grabbed her mind and forced her to sleep. And as her limbs went slack and she finally drifted out of consciousness she finally confirmed her hatred for all that had to do with magic, especially mages.

* * *

**_Woo done with chapter Four. Hopefully the next one will be a little fast but I can't make any promices. And I just realized that in my rush I forgot to put division lines where they were needed.Unfortunatly I was locked off of the internet for a few days, actually the day after I got it posted, and I just got it back up now. Well.. all is well now.  
_**


	6. Chapter 5: Magic shop

**_Hi there Merry Christmas, (or what ever you choose to celebrate) to you all! Surfingpichu here again, and yes another chapter is up. Think of it as a little Christmas present . Sorry if there was a small delay... there were ah... some family matters to attend to. n.n; (By the way, thanks to the three people who actually decided to review. AlescA, Magic-Noise (Who is still very awesome), and Minijew. You are all awesome people and get virtual cookies!)_**

_**AlescA: You'll just have to keep reading to find out. (Though the answer isn't in this chapter. n.n;; sorry.) It's really not that tough to guess what's going to happen in this case though.**_

_**Magic-Noise: Heh n.n;; I guess I'll have to look over my work a little harder now. (I should stop staying up so late to write.) (Thanks for finding that though.)**_

_**Lord Minijew: Like I said before.. I blame the late nights spent in front of the computer. Those are always fun, right?**_

_**Anyways, enjoy the fic. n.n; (And review too! I'll give you cookies oo)**_

_Chapter 5: _Magic Shop

"Sleep!" The incantation and trigger word of the spell had fallen out of the black mage's mouth before he had even known what he was doing. Whether it had been out of shock, out of panic, or just to get the girl out of the way, neither of the two comrades would ever know. Maric now looked on at his comrade who stood over the girl, hands still outstretched, and looking almost horrified at his own actions. With every second the girl seemed to fade out of consciousness, and Shane's expression grew more and more stricken with terror.

"Shane, come on we have to go." He whispered fiercely to the mage, and grabbing him by the forearm, began tugging him along the path, looking back down the path warily to make sure no-one had witnessed the crime his spell casting ally had committed. Especially the two members of the royal guard that they had both managed to cast on earlier.

The black mage however had other plans and flinched away from him, his golden eyes filled with anxiety. He gave a worried glance in the direction of the girl, and then looked back to his partner, with a pleading look. "What are you waiting for let's go!" Maric urged, by now he'd grown impatient with the adolescent mage, but Shane didn't budge, as he looked on at the girl."We can't leave her ..." The black mage replied in a low, almost ominous tone, still staring at the girl who had by now drifted off into silent slumber. He shook his head, stepping backwards, away from the girl, almost as if in fear, and he gave a shifty glance from her to Maric, and back again.

"You can't be serious..." Maric sighed, he kneaded his forehead, with a twinge of annoyance tugging at him. "Shane, you aren't expecting me to take her with us are you? We have enough on our plates already, we don't need a tag-along to keep us busy."

"Well then what happens when she wakes up?" Shane asked motioning to the unconscious girl."She's going to know that we've cast on her, and what if she lets someone know."

"And how would that make any difference?" Maric retorted in an insisting, argumentative tone now rising in his voice. "We're already going to be condemned to death if we get caught. How much worse off could we be? If those two men don't find us soon, they'll get the whole royal guard after us, and how long do you think we'll be able to hide anyway?"

"But what if we can get her to help us?" The sorcerer asked, half sounding hopeful, and half seeming as if he doubted his own words before they left his mouth.

Maric snorted. "Her? Help us?" He asked. "Why would she ever want to do that? She practically fainted when she saw you. What would ever possess her to help us?"

"I don't know." Shane sighed. "Maybe she..."

"Look we're waisting time." Maric interjected, glancing down the alley way again, to make sure no-one was around. Oddly enough it was still barren, but he had a foreboding feeling that the two guards weren't far behind them. Looked once more to the girl and sighed. Though he didn't want to take her with him, he also knew that Shane would probably stay steadfast with his idea, and would keep stalling until he either went along with him or gave up. "We'll take her, we just have to get going now."

Shane nodded and walked back over to the girl, glancing at Maric expectantly.

"What now?" Maric asked, the mage by now was beginning to grate on his last nerve. " Do you want me to carry her now?"

"Well how am I supposed to?" Shane asked, motioning to his left arm, which was hanging limply at his side. Though he had full use of his arm, his left hand was almost impossible to use as the effects of Maric's diluted white magic weren't efficient and though they helped to numb pain and close wounds, wouldn't heal internal damage as quickly, especially since Maric himself had never healed a really deep wound before.

Maric sighed, looking from Shane, to the unconscious girl one last time. "Alright..." He said finally. "but I swear I'll leave you both behind if we get any more tag-alongs, understand?"

Shane nodded, stepping forward cautiously, and Maric, giving another huff walked over, and lifted the girl now into his arms. He gave one last glance to the black mage, and then began running as fast as he could alongside his comrade down the alley.

_It's almost odd. _He mused as he ran. _Before today I don't think I've every really helped anyone with anything, or at least nothing really serious. Maybe at most I've cast a couple of cure spells, but really, I'm not sure if I've ever gone out of my way for anyone. Yet, here I am now, caring for a young mage whom I've managed to save the life of, and now I'm trying to get this young girl to safety just because it wouldn't be right in the mind of my companion to leave her unconscious in the streets. And I know it really isn't a very courteous thing to do but we have more important things to deal with right now._

As he ran, the reality of the situation only now began to sink in. _What am I doing? _He asked himself. _ Why am I doing all of this? Running from a couple of knights, with a criminal black mage, and an unconscious girl whom we've already managed to scare out of her wits. Why are we even bothering to help her? I know that leaving here there would have left a trail for them to follow, but seriously, how long can we hide. I don't even know where to go._

But just as it crossed his mind, he stopped, almost dead in his tracks, still holding the girl in his arms, and with Shane following closely behind him. _There is a place. _He thought as he looked down another branch of the alley into a branch that was almost completely darkened, even in the broad daylight. It was definitely a shoddy looking place, but beyond that dreary looking shadow, Maric knew that there was a place that could possibly save their lives. Maric, in fact, knew this place, he knew exactly where he was, even though he hadn't planned on coming here. But now that he was, it was almost perfect.

"What's wrong?" The mage asked, sounding almost juvenile as he looked into the shadows warily.

"Nothing's wrong." Maric replied almost mumbling, as he stared on into the darkness as well. He however was in no way nervous about the presence of the place, despite it's foreboding presence, and as he looked, a small smile crept onto his face. " In fact, nothing could have been more right."

He walked down into the darkened branch slowly, and steadily the sunlight light was swallowed up by the shadows around them.

"W-wait! Where are you going?" Shane's voice called from behind him, but he took no time to acknowledge his call. Instead he merely kept advancing towards one of the buildings one the side of the ally. And looked up, trying as hard as he could to see through the faint light that was still present there. But despite the lack of light, he found what he was looking for, a large painted sign of a symbol. It was in the shape of a circle on the outside, but around the edged there were various symbols and shapes lining it. In the middle, the symbols became wider and broader, and more complex until it tapered into a star in the middle, all painted in a bright reddish color. Though Maric knew not what the sign actually stood for, he knew what it meant in his case.

That was the only distinctive sign to indicate where his uncle's shop was.

Maric turned to Shane again, and gave him a reassuring glance to try to ease the anxiousness that seemed to linger in his glowing gaze.

He let himself into the shop almost silently, and Shane followed closely. Almost immediately they were met with the pungent smell of tobacco smoke, mixed with that of the misty air that lingered over the entire shop. It was lit dimly by candles that had been hung on the walls, and were sitting on several desks about the small room. The walls themselves seemed to be almost made of book shelves, and each shelf was stuffed with books. The floor was cluttered with other books that had been tossed to the side idly, though weather it had been hours, days, or months ago it was hard to tell. It was really quite cramped and cluttered with all sorts of debris lying about, but for Maric no other sight could have been more comforting. That little shop was almost like a second home to him any more.

"Uncle Rachen!" Maric called out into the shop. "Hey Rachen I'm here!"

For a second silence hung almost as low in the shop as the tobacco smoke, and Maric began to wonder. _Could he have gone out? That would be a little odd for Rachen, he never leaves the shop.. especially when the door is unlocked and everything is wide open._

But a sudden ripple of movement from behind a purple and blue colored curtain in the back of the shop suddenly set the Red Mage at ease.

"Maric!" A low, gruff voice called from behind it. "What are you doing here? I though I told you that you had off for the harvest month."

From behind the curtain a large, stout black mage appeared carrying an arm full of books in his hands, so that his two yellow glowing eyes just about peaked out from behind the stack. He wore a long purple robe that was decorated with golden patterns near the bottom, and had a rope tied loosely around his waist to serve as a belt. Around his neck, from his belt, and around both his wrists hung an assortment of golden chains with various symbols, beads, and charms hung about his figure, so that as he walked they each jangled merrily.

He hobbled over to one of the larger desks in the room and set the books down with a heavy thud, and then turned back to Maric with his hands on his hips.

"Now what in the name of Oden have you got here?" He asked eying both the unconscious girl and Shane who had stepped behind Maric shyly, with a confused look.

"I-it's a funny story actually." Maric said, casting a nervous glance towards the door. For a second he had forgotten about the members of the royal guard who were after them, and were probably searching for them as they spoke. "But ah.. can we go into the back room to talk?"

Rachen cocked his head curiously. "I don't see why not." He said. " But what ever for?"

"I'll explain once we're there." Maric assured him, and Rachen nodded slowly, still keeping a wary eye on Shane, and he slowly turned around and headed back through the curtain. Maric turned to Shane and nodded, and with that the two followed him through.

The back room wasn't much different than the front room other than the fact that there were no book cases, and instead books were in large piles on the floor all about the room, and that there was an even larger concentration of tobacco smoke there than in the front room.

Upon entering, Maric set the girl down gently against the wall and turned to his uncle.

"So, get on with it then." Rachen urged him. "What in the five hells is all of this?"

Maric sighed. He knew Rachen wasn't a very patient person, but sometimes is attitude grated at his nerves. "Well... it's like this" He began, leaning against the wall and putting a hand to his head. _Where do I start? _He thought _So much has happened. _"Um... I was... taking a walk in the woods after trying to reap some sort of harvest at the farm, of course everything is still dry and..."But as he attempted to stray from the topic, a stern look from Rachen put him back on track.

"Well, I heard Shane here calling for help in the woods, so I went over to investigate and found him half dead so I ah.. well I helped him out so to speak and.."

"W-wait a second." Rachen interrupted him. "You find a black mage in the woods, knowing that most of them that are out there are just about ready to fry anything that moves, and you approach him without even knowing a thing about him other than the fact that he's probably a murderer? Maric are you crazy?"

"I never would have tried to harm him." Shane interjected, an even more nervous look now growing in his eyes. "Maric, you know I wouldn't I..."

"Listen I never said that you would try to hurt him." Rachen cut him off. " I'm just saying that it wasn't exactly the brightest move he's ever made."

Shane nodded again, and stepped back again , lowering his head.

"And ah.. what about this girl Maric?" The stout mage asked, turning his yellow eyed gaze to Maric.

Maric was sure he'd flushed. " That's an interesting part of the story, see, Shane and I were running from the ah.. Royal Cornerian Guard afterwards, and we literally ran into this girl, and so Shane cast sleep on her, but I think we might have hurt her a little so..." As he spoke, he began to talk faster and faster until Rachen once again cut him off.

"W-wait.." Rachen said, his voice now seeming frantic. "Royal Cornerian Guard, how did you get them after you?"

"Well... I... ah... kind of cast a fire spell.. well.. near them and they.." Maric explained, his face growing hotter and hotter as he spoke.

"You did what?" Rachen nearly exploded onto his nephew. " You- you didn't... attack them did you?"

"Well it wasn't really meant to be an attack." Maric explained meekly. "Just.. another way to get their attention.."

"It doesn't matter what it was meant to be." Rachen snapped. "Listen we have to get you into the basement. I'll close up the shop for today, and you take your... friends and go down stairs, and I'll deal with you later."

Maric nodded, a slight feeling of shame creeping over him, but he knew he'd have had no other choices if he wanted to get Shane out of there alive. _The kid's caused me way too much trouble. _He thought as he walked over to pick up the girl. _Nothing good is going to come of this, I know it. _

"Wait, one more thing." Rachen said spinning around, now facing Shane. "You, black mage, what's your name?"

Shane tensed and turned around to face the larger mage. "My name's Shane..." He mumbled.

"Last name." Rachen urged in an annoyed tone.

"...It's Tellerman sir." Came his reply.

Almost immediately Rachen's eyes widened, and he looked the smaller mage over, taking a step closer to him almost in awe. "Shane Tellerman?" Rachen marveled. "By Oden's beard, you know Wyatt then."

Shane blinked, looking back at Rachen. "He.. was my father." He replied quietly.

"Wh-what do you mean was?" Rachen asked, shifting uneasily from foot to foot now.

"He died." Was Shane's simple answer. "About two years ago he died."

"Oh..." The older mage sighed, a pang of remorse seeming to linger in his voice. "He always was a sickly one..."

"...He was publicly executed" Shane muttered.

"Oh..." Rachen muttered again, seeming a bit shaken now, and he averted his eyes from the adolescent mage's stare. "Maric, you two go down to the basement." He finally said in a low voice which held a stunned kind of fear, and he looked the two young spell casters over. "You know where that is right?"

Maric nodded, and started over to a wooden box like structure in the floor of the shop over in the left hand corner, with a metal ring attached to the top, still holding the girl in his arms.

"Ah.. Shane?" He called to the black mage, motioning to the door. "Could you get that for me?"

He nodded silently, and grabbed hold of the handle with one hand, and giving a grunt, pulled as hard as he could on the door, straining against the weight of the door until it at last gave way and flew open, throwing the young mage back into a pile of books which promptly toppled over backwards.

"A-Are you alright?" Maric asked, barely suppressing a chuckle, but his mirth soon dissipated when the black mage didn't reply. "Shane? Are you okay?" He asked again, this time feeling a bit worried.

"Yes.." Was the black mage's only answer, but his sullen tone depicted just the opposite.

_He's thinking about his father again. _He realized, as the mage had acted exactly like this when he'd mentioned his father before. When the two had walked home in the forest. _But how does Rachen know about his father? I've really never heard of him, and he'd only passed away recently. I wonder why Rachen never mentioned him before._

Maric cast one last worried glance to Shane, but he didn't return the gaze, as he again regained a look that made him seem lost in thought. _I shouldn't be so worried about him I guess. _He thought. _He's got his own problems and I have mine. I barely even know him either, why should I be worried?_

The Red mage started down the staircase that had been once hidden under the wooden door, and Shane followed closely behind. As they descended the dim light grew fainter and fainter, as did the pungent smell of tobacco, and soon they had been engulfed in the darkness, the only light seeming to come from Shane's eyes.

The two reached the bottom of the flight of stairs, and an eerie sense of solidarity seemed to fill Maric, as the darkness seemed to isolate him from the rest of the world, making him blind to what could be happening. He laid the girl down again and shut his eyes in a dull attempt to shut out reality. The change really made no difference, and in this case he could have just as easily shut reality off with his eyes open as closed in this case. Delving deep into his mind he sped through the words of the fire spell's incantation in only a few seconds, mixing in a small spark of his own hatred just to nurture the spell, and with that a small flame shot up in his two cupped hands almost out of nowhere, filling the room with a dim light.

Cradling the fire in one hand Maric turned to the black mage again, only to find that he had disappeared. Looking around, the mage's figure only caught his eye for a second. He had knelt down in front of the girl, who was still sleeping soundly, under the spell, with a worried look in his eye as he looked her over, feeling her head with his good hand every so often.

"Is she waking up?" Maric asked, but the mage shook his head solemnly.

"I just hope I didn't hurt her." Shane said softly, looking to Maric now.

"How could you hurt her with a sleep spell?" Maric asked raising an eyebrow. "We're talking about once of the most docile black magic spells there is."

"What happens if she doesn't wake up?" He asked, facing Maric now with wild worried eyes. "What happens if she just stays like this forever? I'll have killed her."

"Then that's one less problem that we'll have to deal with." Maric said, looking away, and though he knew that he was being cold, there was nothing more he could possibly do. In reality he wanted nothing more than for this whole ordeal to be over with.

"H-how can you say that?" Shane demanded, appalled by the red mage's answer. "She's a whole other life. A whole other story, we don't know who she could be. Maybe she's someone's mother, or sister, I don't know. But to just blow off a life? Just like that? How would you like it if I just came up to you and randomly killed you with a death spell?"

"Quite frankly I'd be relieved at this point." Maric mumbled.

"Then you have no respect for life..." The black mage sadly concluded. "Those who don't respect life have no right to live it."

"Then why don't you just kill me now?" Maric asked, but almost immediately afterwards, he wished that he hadn't. Shane shot a cold glare at Maric, his eyes narrowing to only two small slits of light in the darkness that concealed his face, and for a second it looked as if he was ready to strike the red mage.

"You don't know what you're talking about or what you're dealing with." He spun around, raising his voice now. "You've never had to weigh the value of your own life to others, and it's a position that you probably will never have to face. For that fact only, you should have gratitude for your own life, and be happy you'll never have to deal with that kind of sacrifice."

Maric started to reply, but let his thoughts go without saying. He'd already managed to anger the mage enough, and since he still didn't know his capacity for magic, he knew it would probably be in his own best interest not to push the black mage's limits. Instead he merely nodded meekly and let a heavy silence fill the small room.

The quiet air, however, didn't last long, for a gruff voice soon called down from the top of the stairs, and in the light that filtered down from the top of the stairs, a figure appeared.

"Maric what's going on down there?" The voice inquired, and Maric spun around to see the old black mage, stomping heavily down the steps, each of his charm embellished chains clanging together as he walked, and vaguely Maric caught himself wondering if the weak wooden structure would support his weight.

"N-nothing." Maric replied, knowing that letting his uncle know of any goings on at this point was likely to anger the older mage just as much as he'd angered Shane.

Rachen eyed his nephew with contempt again and sighed. "What am I going to do with you?" He asked, setting the grounds for a lecture. "How many times am I going to have to tell you that in life, the most important thing to do is to look out for number one. That's you. All your other friends can come later. If a situation is liable to get you into trouble, then don't get into it. That's it pure and simple. And for the love of Oden, Maric, keep to yourself. Don't get involved with anyone and they'll leave you alone. Don't go lashing out at them! "

"Rachen I couldn't have just let him die. I couldn't let them take him away" Maric protested, as Rachen listen to him, with a skeptical expression. "It was... I don't know... like I was bound to him by something. Like if he died, it wouldn't just be him, something else would die with him. Listen, you know the story of the warriors of light right?"

"Oh not that dream fodder again." Rachen sighed. "It's a myth Maric... There have never been any warriors of light alright?"

"No listen.. I really think Shane and I are part of the prophecy. We both have hose odd crystals, and it was said in the story that one of the men was a studier of the dark magical arts, and another partook in both dark and light." Maric explained "It could easily be referring to a black mage and a red mage. How much more of a sign do you want?"

"I don't want a sign, I want a life for you." Rachen replied. "You're not going to get anywhere just following dreams. What you need to worry about is your farm, and your life."

"Wait a second, what are you talking about?" Shane asked looking from Rachen to Maric with a befuddled look on his face. "Light Warriors, crystals, life saving.. Am I missing something here?"

"What do you mean?" Maric asked. "You were there. The whole reason I brought it up is because we'd discussed it yesterday afternoon. "

"Yesterday afternoon?" The mage echoed his words, and Maric could feel his heart and hopes dropping deeper and deeper as the black mage's expression showed more and more confusion.

"Yes, remember?" Maric coaxed him, hoping to spur some sort of memory. "I'd returned the crystal to you after you agreed to come with me."

"Go with you... to where?" Shane asked, still not seeming to remember the chain of events, and he cocked his head to one side looking more confused than ever.

"To my home up on the hill top." He replied, now becoming agitated. "I brought you back from the brink of death with a plume of phoenix down after you were beaten within an inch of your life by forest imps. You were trying to go to Corneria at the time. Is any of this striking a memory?"

The mage shook his head slowly.

"Nothing at all?" The red mage asked, and with a final shake of the mage's head he sighed. "It's a surprise you can even remember my name."

"I almost didn't." The mage admitted. "If I had I wouldn't have attacked you. I'm just assuming that what I can remember is true, and that what you're telling me now is true as well."

"It's probably all lies, knowing Maric like I do." Rachen said with a laugh, laying a bulky arm on the red mage's shoulder. "What are you going to trust a man who's got a role model like me?"

"Uncle Rachen you're not helping." Maric hissed, pulling away from his uncle, and in a louder, less agitated voice, addressed Shane. "Don't listen to him alright? I'm telling the truth, how else do you think you could have gotten into a state like that?" And he motioned to the younger mage's torn and tattered state. Stains from blood had permanently settled themselves into his mangled and shredded cloak, and it was obvious that many superficial wounds still lay untouched beneath it. His stride still had an unsteady sway to it, and he couldn't seem to muster more than a little bit of energy at the time. In short, though he had been snatched away from death, Maric could tell he was still in for a long recovery.

"I-I don't know.." Shane replied slowly. "Had been more concerned about getting to some kind of safety and asking questions later, but things didn't exactly work out..."

"Well, you're safe now." Rachen pointed out. "Well, you would be if my nephew wasn't such a fool but we can't do too much about that now can we?"

"Listen, the girl was his idea alright? I had nothing to do with that." Maric defended himself,though he knew Rachen wasn't talking about the girl at that moment. However it was only at that moment that he realized that that very girl had moved from the floor to an upright position a few paces away from the staircase, and was very much awake. "Speaking of which..."

Shane looked back to the spot where the girl had lay before, and his eyes widened with alarm when he realized that she had disappeared. He spun around to face the staircase, and called out to her when her figure caught his eye.

"Wait stop!" He cried rushing over to the staircase. The girl gave a small cry and suddenly made a mad dash up the stairs, and he stood helplessly watching as her figure grew farther and farther away.

Rachen dashed up towards her,though not quite as swiftly as he would have liked, and he removed one of the chains from around his neck, and holding it about a foot away from his face. He proceeded to wrap the beaded charm around his fingers, and began to pull it between his hands like a cat's cradle. Working quickly got it to emulate that of a hexagon with an "X" like shape in the middle and the charm dangling down into the sign. "Stop!" He shouted now as well, but this time the girl really did stop. She froze on the spot, and stood there stiff and still, as Rachen slowly lumbered up the steps, and plucked the girl off her spot on the stairs, and carried her down. The girl still made no movement, and remained frozen in the same position, looking like a wax figure.

"Wh-what did you do?" Shane asked, staring at the older mage, looking now even more alarmed.

"Just a mild stop spell." He replied. "It'll wear off in a few seconds, but you should know that right? I'd suppose you'd have learned the ways of magic. This here is just a little child's play compared to the spell casting your father did of course, but what can you expect from a mage like me?"

"My father didn't teach me much magic." Shane replied, his voice gaining a distant tone again. "He knew a lot, and I'm sure he tried to teach me, but I never really caught on. After a while, he stopped completely, and he never spoke of it again."

"Sometimes things just take practice," Rachen said, and a second later added in a rather jealous tone "something old Tellerman never had to worry about." However when confronted with a quizzical look from Shane he made no reply.

Maric couldn't help smirking as he watched the two, not because they were doing anything that seemed humorous to him, but simply because they were so similar. Rachen was a bit more abrupt than Shane, but they both seemed to be prone to losing themselves as they spoke, and thus each had a way of rambling a bit about topics.

He sighed, and cleared his mind again. _It would be best. _He thought _To get any magic out of the way now, so that this girl doesn't get the chance to hurt herself even more. _And with that let his surroundings leave. The incantation to the cure spell was still fresh in his mind, and he rattled it off easily. He laid a hand on the girl's broken arm subconsciously, and breathed the word. "Cure" And in a moment, it was over.

When he opened his eyes, however, he was met with an uncanny kind of darkness, and only then realized that he had accidentally stifled his own flame while casting, and had cast the entire scene into shadow. A couple of quick footsteps followed, and Maric could feel a fourth presence in the room that he hadn't felt before. _The spell must've worn off. _Maric thought, looking around, and trying to strain his eyes to see through the thick blanket of shadow. His attempts however, ended up in vain, for only a second later, he felt a hand grip him by the arm and pull him close to a thin, rather bony, yet muscular body, and another held him around the stomach. An icy cold, biting feeling rose in his neck, like the sting of a piece of cold metal, and the red mage froze on the spot, not daring to move.

"Th-the next time one of you freaks makes a move, this one tastes steel, you got that?" A shrill, yet strong feminine voice rang through the darkness, and Maric stiffened even more at the thought. _This really isn't my day, is it? _He thought wearily.

"Maric!" Shane cried in alarm. Even in the darkness, the two mages could easily pinpoint where Maric was in the room, though they couldn't see him, and could feel the girl's faint magical presence brought on only by her life force energy.

"By Bahamut's scales let the lad go!" Rachen demanded, his voice raising several decibels in the last few seconds. "He did nothing to you! Actually, he fixed your arm out of the kindness in his heart!"

But as his uncle spoke, he felt the girl flinch backwards, and at this moment he noticed that she was trembling slightly, her pulse was rapid and she was breathing fast as well. _She's scared. _He realized. _Terrified. She just wants to get out of here._

"Kindness?" She asked. "What kindness? None of you know what kindness is. You who use your own soul for your bidding. You who take the lives of hundreds, and for what? Nothing! You're all savages."

"You know nothing!" Rachen bellowed, it was easy to tell he was irate now, his eyes narrowing dangerously."Those are lies, we've done nothing of the sort!"

"Then those villages burned themselves?" She inquired, but as she did she trembled even more. "How do those people die every day, if mages didn't do it?"

"They've done nothing!" Shane cried now, his voice sounding shrill and frantic. "I swear on my life, and on my father's grave Maric and Rachen have done nothing wrong! Let him go!"

"What about you then?" She asked. "How many people have you slaughtered?"

"He's done harm to no-one!" Rachen interjected again, still sounding angry. "You ungrateful little wench, you ought to quit talking now, or I'll begin to fit you little stereotype a little closer than I do now. If you lay a hand on my nephew it will be.."

"Rachen!" Maric interrupted his uncle in a voice almost as shrill as Shane's. He took a breath, trying to ease his quickened breath, and pounding heart. His palms were sweating by now, and his stomach was tied in knots, but he'd kept his wits above all, and he knew that making threats by now wasn't helping him. It was only worsening his situation, and he knew how to make it stop.

"Listen." He continued, swallowing hard, his voice in just about above a whisper, and trembling with every word. "We aren't going to hurt you."

"Really?" The girl asked, in a mock casual, rather smug sounding voice.

"Look, this isn't getting you anywhere..." Maric said, now his voice was raising above a whisper, and beginning to sound less terror stricken. "We're going to let you go... but you have to promise us something... alright?"

"You aren't in a position to bargain mage boy." The girl hissed, menacingly. "You'll answer to my requests."

"We don't have to let you go, you know." Maric pointed out. "Rachen has a charm for a death spell. He could kill you on the spot if he wanted to."

"I could kill you on the spot if I wanted to." The girl replied.

"But where would that get you?" Maric asked. "You would be dead a second later."

"You'd be charged with murder." The girl said, now directing her attention to Rachen. " I have nothing to lose, you on the other hand..."

"He is a black mage." Maric finished. " For both he and I, the fact that we breathe your air is a crime against humanity. Our being alive is punishable by death if caught. We have just as little as you on the line." The girl fell silent, her blade still tight, but her arms not as gripping as they had been.

"This can all go away." Maric coaxed her. "Just let me go, and we'll let you go."

"How can I trust your word?" She asked skeptically, but Maric could see she was running out of reasons to hold him, and her grip was weakening.

"You're not the one with a knife to your neck." Maric pointed out.

"You had better hold your word." The girl threatened, and slowly, she released her grip on the red mage, who finally let his limbs relax, and gave a deep sigh of relief.

"You just have to promise not to tell a soul of this place." Maric said.

"You have no control over me." The girl said frostily, and began to run to the stairs, but was stopped by the two black mages, who stepped in her way.

"We still don't have to let you go." Rachen said calmly, though it was obvious he was hiding the urge to burst out at her again. "We know where you are. We can feel you. This is our domain, so you'll obey our commands."

There was a tense silence in the darkness, and for a second, the girl seemed to melt into the darkness momentarily.

"Then I'll not tell a soul." The girl said softly.

The two mages, whom could still only be distinguished by their yellow eyes, which peaked out of the darkness exchanged glances. Rachen was still standing steadfast, and still seemed to hold some suspicion for the girl, but Shane merely nodded to the old mage.

"We gave her our word, she gave us hers." He said softly. "Let her go, there's nothing more for her here. We've done our part."

Rachen nodded, and he stepped out of the way to the right, Shane to the left, and the girl immediately bolted up the stairs, and her footsteps could be heard faintly as they left the shop. Soon another heavy, awkward silence filled the small dark room.

"You really think we can trust her?" Rachen asked finally, as the silence was broken, looking skeptically at the smaller black mage.

"Not for one second." He replied.

_**As tension mounts between the three mages and the long arm of the law, will the three innocent convicts be able to escape the grasp of the gallows? Can they trust their last lifeline in the hands of a thief, or will their trust in her lead to their demise? And why in the world am I asking so many questions when I already know all of this?**_

_**Meh, R&R everybody! (You know you want to.) o.o**_


	7. Chapter 6:Warrior's story

_**Woo! Chapter 6 is up! (Does happy dance)**_

_**Okay first and foremost: A Special thanks to surskitty/Floop, MidnightSabourteur, Tailsy, and Harlequin for being extremely awesome, and beta reading this chapter. I don't know if you know how greatful I am,for you guys and for just taking the time to do this (not to mention doing a pretty darn awesome job of it) So, again Thank you!**_

_**Yes I am back, after many a battle with evil dragons, demons, and exploding penguins I've finally made it back here! (Yes I have been playing Disgaea. Fun game really)**_

_**Okay, but that's not my only excuse, see, I've discovered the true power of play directors by joining the school's production of the Wizard of Oz. I'm a munchkin... and a little poppy singing girl, and an Ozian. You wouldn't believe how long they keep you for only those parts... oy... it's murder. So.. thus... the play director stole my soul and is keeping it in her possession until the play is over. **_

_**Problem is, I've already sold it to my choir director... who wants my group to sing for the state conference this year, which will mark the first time a small organized group has ever gone to the state conference from this part of the state, other than one huge organized group of insanely talented people from literally all the corners of the Earth. Sooo naturally we're all excited, but between those two people, plus marching band (We were marching for the St. Patty's day parade, and were making preparations), and flute recitals, and school where my teachers decided to all end their sections at once and toss a boatload of tests and quizzes on us. There wasn't too much time for fic writing. (Plus it was a long chapter)**_

_**So that's why this chapter is late. n.n Sorry!**_

_**Anyway, reviews. (A virtual cookie to Magic-Noise, who is still very awesome, and The PCD. Thanks for being awesome and reviewing!)**_

_**Magic-Noise- Yeah I do use Microsoft Word... well okay, so it's actually Open Office, the free version of Microsoft Word, but that works. Things just slip away from me when I'm up late at night, and look blearily up at those little red lines and mumble. "I'll Change it another day." Then I never do. n.n I have Maric and Rachen's names saved into Open Office's Dictionary, so it doesn't hassle me about it, as well as Corneria, so everything works.**_

_**The PCD- Well I'm glad you like this stuff, I've been working pretty hard on it.**_

_**And by the way: 1000 hits exactly on the hits page! Woo! Thanks for the support thus far everyone!**_

_**Thus ends the outrageously long Author's Note... **_

_Chapter 6:_ Warrior's Story

_There it was again. A calm, peaceful, serene scene. Calm blue waves dancing and swaying as the salty wind played merrily across the sea. The sky was clear and blue, accented only by a few spare clouds, low and heavy, which floated lazily along with the water. And in the midst of all of this there was a ship, alone and seeming far away and lonely in the seclusion of the open waters, but even from far away the finest details could be seen. The dark sails, the sturdy mast, and each plank of light, warn wood that had been used to fashion the boat could be seen. _

_The wind gave a sudden shift and the boat began to move forward, becoming larger and larger as it did,, and as it did the sky suddenly went black as the low clouds were suddenly swallowed up by a gray, stormy scene of chaos. The reserves of water held within it's thick dark masses suddenly gave way, and a torrent of water was heaved upon the scene. Thunder clapped above, and lightning sailed from cloud to cloud, threatening to strike the very ship itself, and suddenly the ship capsized without any warning what-so-ever, as if it had been made of clay and paper rather than wood. The scene slowly darkened, and faded to nothing, but a voice could be heard from beyond the darkness._

"Stephon!" The voice called hastily. "Steph, wake up!"

Slowly a new scene came into view, with a completely clear sky this time, and a man's head hovering over him, his expression looking anxious and determined. Stephon put a hand to his throbbing head, propping himself up on one arm from his formerly reclined position, and looked around groggily.

"Wh-what...?" He managed to stutter as he looked around, now thoroughly confused. He racked his brain to find some answer as to why he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a field, but to no avail.

He felt a strong hand pull him to his feet and he wavered on the spot for a moment as he regained his balance. A light headed feeling swept over him for a second, and he closed his eyes, trying to concentrate the nauseating feeling into a more sustainable form. He shook his head, as if to physically shake off that odd dizzy feeling, and opened one eye to stare at his brother.

"Did you see where they went?" He asked him suddenly, though Stephon, who was still feeling a little groggy, merely stood there dumbly.

_They? _He thought. _What does he mean they? _And a second later he felt like slapping himself.

"The mages?" He asked, shaking his head again. "No, I barely felt myself hit the ground once that kid cast that spell."

And it was true, as soon as the black mage had uttered the word "Sleep", he had been off to dreamland. Whether the spell was just very potent, or he hadn't resisted enough against the magic was beyond him, but he did know that given the intensity of the spell he could have been out for hours. Some strong mages have been fabled to put their adversaries into an enchanted sleep for days, or even years if they wanted to. Only adding to his discomfort was the fact that the magical fire that had once burned bright about them had disappeared completely, the ground beneath that had once lay beneath it scorched, but nothing more than that.

"They could be anywhere by now, Talon." Stephon said blearily, putting a hand to his forehead. "We need to call for more reinforcements to get these two in."

"It'll take too long, we're going after them now." Talon replied, and then added in a fierce, determined tone. "I'm not letting him get away." And with that he began to run as fast as he could down the hill towards the streets of the small town.

"Wait!" Stephon called out to his brother once more, and he spun around, now looking more aggravated than ever.

"What is it now?" He snarled in a vicious tone that made Stephon flinch.

"I-I was just thinking." He said, almost shrinking away from his younger brother. "Maybe they're somewhere around here, like in the house." But his brother said nothing in reply. He merely gave an even more narrow glare and began to run back down the hill. Stephon of course had no choice but to follow his brother. The last time he'd gone off on a whim it had almost gotten him killed, and that was dealing with pick pockets, not wielders of the planet's very elements.

Even as Stephon followed his brother, however, he could sense that something was wrong. There was a new aura about him. He seemed more mature now, and more determined than before. _Something is wrong. _Stephon realized as he watched his brother, following his every movement. _Talon usually doesn't get this worked up, especially over mages. This isn't the first time one has gotten away from us, it happens almost all the time anymore, what makes this so special? This mage was obviously a novice, barely ready for the spell books; in fact his friend did more magic than he did. _Stephon's eyes widened. _His friend. _He repeated in his mind. _That man knew magic, black magic, and he doesn't look like a black mage at all. Maybe they've changed their looks, disguising themselves as workers, and laborers. That's what's getting to Talon. They have to be..._

"Did you see a white haired man and a mage pass through here?" His thoughts were interrupted by Talon's voice, which Stephon promptly ran into the very second he came out of his thoughts. Talon had apparently cornered a young girl on the streets for interrogation, and was looking more fierce than ever.

"Talon stop." Stephon cried, wrenching the enraged eighteen year old away from the terror stricken young lady, who promptly fled the scene. Talon shook Stephon off of his shoulder once the girl was out of sight.

"What are you doing?" Talon asked. "We have a job to do."

"Terrorizing citizens isn't the way to do it." Stephon shot back, meeting his brother's glare now with one of his own. "We need to ask someone who can actually tell us something, and something useful at that. Or better yet, we can call for back up: it wouldn't kill us to have some help and there are already men patrolling the town."

"We're doing it alone." Talon insisted, running down another path almost blindly. Stephon sighed, he knew he had no choice but to follow his brother, as if those mages found him alone, it would be easy for them to overpower him. With Talon at his side they would be far more formidable.

As they ran, however, the blond haired swordsman could feel a certain feeling of doubt welling up inside of him. _Are we really going to find these men? _He asked himself. _Could we really find them if we wanted to. And even so, could we really take them in? What if they regrouped, or are plotting something. We're doomed if we have to fight more than two of them. Three or four at most, but if it's any more than that we'll never come out alive. Talon must be crazy to think that we would stand a chance against a bunch of mages._

A feeling of utter hopelessness had filled him now as the true vanity of their mission began to dawn on him. Here they were, trying to track down two men in a town after losing track of them completely, for who knows how long. They could have easily fled town, gone into Corneria's main city, maybe even ran off into the wilderness to who knows where. They could easily be chasing nothing, and end up fruitless after days of searching. An utter failure if any ever existed.

Failure was the exact opposite of anything that Talon stood for. That was one thing the fiery teenager would never tolerate, especially when he was the one doing it. _There's nothing more we could do about it _Stephon assured himself. _Even with the entire Cornerian guard it could take days to find these mages. Though through failure sometimes comes success, if only that would spare me the wrath of Talon Carris. _

As he looked, Stephon could feel his heart sinking lower and lower. There was no sign of any mages; not one man or woman seemed at all frightened or anxious, and a peaceful, almost serene hush had fallen over the back streets of the small town. However there was one girl who stood out, an expression of dismay written on her face when nothing at all seemed to be wrong with the scene. It could have been a problem that had nothing to do with mages, or any situation, it could have easily been that, and Stephon could have just kept up with his search. However, it wasn't the utter terror that was written on the girl's face that had grabbed his attention, actually that was the last thing on his mind when he caught sight of her. As soon as he caught sight of her, his thoughts were on that of her identity, or rather, the event that he associated with her identity as 'That thief that tried to kill me.'

He looked to his brother, and motioned for him to come over, still watching the girl from afar. Talon gave his brother a questioning look, and opened his mouth to speak, but Stephon motioned for him to keep quiet, and pointed over in the direction of the girl.

"What do you want with her again?" Talon asked in a low whisper, looking back to the girl as he spoke. "This isn't the time to look for ladies: we have a job to..."

"She was there when we went after the mages." Stephon interrupted him; speaking quickly to communicate his point before the girl was gone. "There's a good chance in a town like this that they would have crossed paths at least once. If they're still in here, she'll know where they are."

"So how willing do you think she'll be to tell you?" Talon asked. "Let's see here, you chased her down, ordered an army of men to attack her and her little band of thieves, and then threatened to kill her when you caught her later on. Oh yes, I see the beginning of a lovely relationship here."

"Talon, focus." Stephon whispered fiercely. "We need to get this information. Lives could depend on it, and I'm willing to get it by any means necessary."

With that, the blond haired knight stood up, walking casually over to the girl this time, as slowly and quietly as they could muster, and crept right up behind her. In any other instance, she would have been in tune to this kind of behavior, and retaliated immediately, but on this occasion, things were different for her, and she didn't seem to be thinking straight.

"Excuse me." Talon addressed the girl, his tone nonchalant and his stance casual, but that same hot, disarming determination still burned in his eyes. "We'd like to have a word with you miss."

The girl spun around in surprise, and as soon as her eyes met Stephon's she gave a small yelp in fear. Her eyes widened, and staring at the two armed men, she looked like a lost rabbit about to be devoured by a ravenous wolf.

Stephon crept behind her as his brother spoke, as he knew she would most likely try to run away again, and they didn't have time to chase her down again. As he predicted, she turned to take off, just as she had before, but the noble blooded knight put a hand on the thief girl's shoulder.

"Don't be alarmed." Stephon said smoothly. "We aren't going to harm you; we just need some information."

"Oh, a change of heart?" the girl asked smirking sarcastically. "I suppose you'd also expect me to believe you've decided to take Corneria out of the war and be a peaceful country where our leaders actually care about their subjects."

The high pitched singing of a sword sliding out of it's sheathe was enough to dull the thief's wit, and she immediately straightened up like a statue, her face now barren of any humor.

"We don't intend to harm you, that is." Talon corrected his brother's previous remark, a dangerous smile contorting on his lips. "But our plans don't always turn out as we intend."

"What do you want?" the girl asked icily, narrowing her eyes at the brothers. She wasn't about to play any more games at this point. _It suppose it's time to get down to business then. _Stephon thought.

"Did you happen to see two mages come by this way?" he asked, his voice still as casual as ever. "Black mages, that is. One is a traditional, you'd know him if you saw him, and the other wears all red, and has long white hair."

The girl's eyes widened, and she paled, flashing a glance backwards towards a another mass of buildings which converged into a darkened alley, hidden completely by a mysterious shadow. She looked back to Talon again, fear still and her eyes and shook her head vigorously and silently.

Talon raised an eyebrow at this. "Are you sure?" He asked, brandishing his sword threateningly.

"I know you have a grudge against us." Stephon sighed, twirling a finger around one of her golden locks of hair, causing her to flinch away again. "But can you help us help you? You know the true dispositions of mages right?"

The girl nodded vigorously again, but her eyes trailed off to the alley again, holding a pleading kind of desperation. "They're killers." she said, almost automatically, but her eyes held a kind of uncertainty. As a thief, Stephon expected more of her when it came to lying: a girl like this wouldn't crumble under this kind of pressure; that was for certain.

_That is, unless we're not the only pressure. _He thought. _She definitely knows something, even a blind man could see that, but she seems torn. Maybe she doesn't know if she can trust us, or doesn't know if she can trust who ever she's defending._

"They're worse than killers." Talon replied, any lax tones now gone from his voice, now replaced with all the heat and urgency that his eyes had held previously. "These men are wielders of the very elements that make up this world. One word can level a city; one more can take a life instantly. Do you want to let someone with that kind of potential power roaming your streets, living in your town? Having one mage living anywhere spells out disaster for any town within a ten mile radius of the place. No matter how docile he can seem to be, it only takes one foul moment to cause the death of thousands. How could you live with that kind of guilt?"

The girl looked stunned, her face paler than ever now, and her eyes had lost their focus. She looked just about ready to break down into tears, and for a second, Stephon felt sorry for the young girl. For a second she said nothing, and she gazed vaguely at the darkened alley once more.

"They went that way." She finally said, in a monotone, quiet voice. "There's a shop a little ways into the alley over there. It's dark, and there's no indication of anything there, but if you get up close enough you can see a door. They're hiding in there, in the back of the shop."

Stephon nodded smirking. "We thanks you, good lady." he said, doing a mock bow.

"I didn't tell you for your sake." she spat, glaring at him coldly."You've nothing to thank me for." With that, she turned to leave, but again Talon caught her by the arm.

"How can we trust your word?" Talon asked skeptically, and she pulled away, spinning around to face him with a look of utter disbelief on her face.

"Can you trust my word?" She asked, her voice high with what could have been rage if provoked any further. "You go through all of that and you still don't believe me? What kind of game are you playing?"

"A dangerous one, ma'am," Talon replied in an almost malevolent voice. He got down close to her face so that their noses were almost touching, and forced her to stair into his eyes, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. He looked about ready to strangle her as he said his next words: "And if you know what's good for you you'll come with us. We don't have the time to deal with another one of your diversions, and if you're lying about these mages it'll be the last tale you ever tell."

"Talon!" Stephon addressed his brother sharply, and he looked over to his brother with such a violent, beast like face, that he himself almost flinched away. Talon narrowed his eyes at him again, but this time Stephon stood steadfast, a stern, stony expression fixed on his face, and he met his younger brother's stare. Slowly, the younger sibling melted back into the young man Stephon had grown up with, and let go of the girl grudgingly, looking almost meek, or at least as meek as he could ever have looked.

"Let's go." The older knight said in a softer voice this time. "You should come with us too." He motioned to the thief girl, and she recoiled. "One can't be to careful."

The girl slowly stepped forward, snarling at Stephon as she passed him. She said nothing, but her cold glare did enough speaking. At that point, he was almost glad that she hadn't spoken for fear of what obscenities she may have shouted at that point, but at any rate, it was better than having a knife at his neck.

"Lead the way." Stephon urged her. "You know it better than I."

Automatically the girl began to walks towards the dark spot amongst the buildings. There, the usual bustle of the busy town seem to come to a halt, and as they advanced into the shadows, all sound, all joy, and all merriment seemed to vanish along with the sun. A certain feeling of uneasiness struck Stephon as soon as he entered the shadows, and it only grew worse and worse as he walked. A knot tied itself in his stomach as the girl began to turn, leading them in through the darkness, and a cold chill rushed down his spine. Whether it was magic or nerves he couldn't tell, but he knew that which ever it was, it meant something. What the something was, he wasn't sure, but somehow, he got the feeling that he was slowly getting into something that was far more than he could handle.

The once dark basement of the old magic shop had finally been cast into the light by a dim magical flame, revealing even dustier, forgotten books with pages so craggy and thin from age that one would think they would crumble into dust instantly if they were touched. The floor and walls were made of roughly packed dirt, giving the impression that the basement had been an afterthought, added on by merely burrowing a large hole beneath the shop and dumping any access books into it, with a staircase added to serve as a link between the pit and the shop. There was nothing in the basement other than the large piles of books, and one single candle that now lit the room, which rested on yet another mound of stacked books.

It was at the foot of the staircase that served as a passageway between the large hole-like basement and the world above that the shop owner, Rachen, paced the floor. The charms that hung from his neck and belt jangled and sang as he walked. Even they seemed to hold a worried air, and the tension that had mounted between the three mages that now stood in the basement at the foot of the stairs was only heightened by their clatter.

"Well this is a fine mess you've gotten us into now, Maric." Rachen grumbled as he strode back and fourth nervously.

He gave a worried glance up the stairs into the light that filtered down from the top, and shook he head, as he'd been doing for almost twenty minutes now. His eyes flicked back to Maric and Shane, holding more worry and anxiety than Maric had ever thought his uncle could comprehend. The aging black mage's vexation over the matter was enough to deeply concern the white haired spell caster, as Rachen was usually a very easy going man. Often more so than what would be practical, and he often worried that his uncle took matters far too lightly. Now he was anything but calm, toying nervously with one of the strings of beads that hung from his neck, his eyes hard, and fixed on the floor and he paced, his breath quick and rapid.

"I told you it wasn't my fault." Maric now grumbled, a sour expression on his face. "I've already explained that none of this was my idea: it was..."

"It doesn't matter what it was!" Rachen snapped, his eyes wild, and Maric flinched back in surprise. "Don't you realize how serious this is? We need a plan, we need to conceal ourselves, otherwise..."

"Well, there's always the chance that she'll keep her word." Shane added hopefully. " Maybe we can trust her."

Rachen stopped pacing momentarily, and turning to face the younger black mage, chuckled softly at the boy's words. "You know." He said, with what could have been a wry smile on his face, had it not been consumed in shadows. "You're just like you're father, always the optimist, always hoping for the best." Suddenly all signs of mirth disappeared from his 'face' "You can see where that got him, can't you?"

Shane flinched a bit at the old black mage's comment, seeming a bit stunned, but he collected himself, nodding solemnly before taking a step back silently. For a second, Maric felt a twinge of what might have been pity, but he made no comment or action.

His brain was overflowing with thoughts right at that point. _What happens when they come? If they come that is..., _He thought, glancing to the staircase, up into the lit world anxiously. _Do we just stay down here and hope we don't get caught? Just close the entrance to the basement and hope they don't discover it? It's a fair chance, but a fair chance isn't good enough. We don't know who we're dealing with here. It could be anyone from the Cornerian Guard, to the entire army. I don't think they'd go that far exactly, but Corneria does have it's ways of taking things to an extreme. _

He looked back to Rachen, who had taken up pacing the floor again, and was still as tense as ever, glancing toward the staircase even more often than before. Silence again hung over the room, as thick as the smoke that floated at the ceiling of the shop. But Maric knew that silence wouldn't get them anywhere. Silence wouldn't help them, it just made the precious seconds that they had left seem to stretch out longer, and made their situation look more and more bleak.

_We can't stay down here forever. _Maric thought. _Even if they don't find us, we'll never be able to set foot out of the magic shop again. They'll be looking for us now, with guards posted around every corner. We're as good as imprisoned already, and what happens when we run out of food down here?_

If they did find the magic shop, who ever 'they' were supposed to be, Maric knew that one thing that would arouse suspicion was the fact that the magic shop would definitely look like it had been occupied recently. That was easy to tell as the smell of tobacco was still fresh in the air. They truly had no reason to be closed at this time, in broad daylight, where business would be the busiest. Magic hadn't been outlawed in the small town, since the King truly didn't have power over it. They were offered no protection from Corneria, so in turn they would not be ruled by him, and in truth he had no right to have sent members of the Guard into the little town in the first place. A fact that Maric may have been able to use against the two armed men when they had first confronted him, but alas, that time was over. He had already committed a crime, under even the laws of the small town he lived in, by using his magic to attack another man.

_Without that they have nothing on us. _He thought, and slowly a smile crept onto his features as a plan began to form in his mind. _There's nothing illegal about owning a magic shop in this town. It isn't promoted, but it isn't prohibited either. If there was someone running the shop they would have no grounds for suspicion, and would continue their search elsewhere, and since we were in the dark, that girl never saw my face. She wouldn't recognize me, and that girl is possibly the only clue they have as to my identity, or Rachen's or Shane's. _

"I'm going up to man the shop." Maric announced suddenly, and the two black mages snapped around to look at him, bewildered at his statement, and he realized that without knowing his entire plan, the proposition seemed like suicide.

"Are you mad, boy?" Rachen asked, preparing again to launch into a full explanation of why that would be an utterly foolish idea, but Maric cut him off before he could continue.

"They're going to search the entire establishment if they come in here and see the shop empty." Maric explained. "Eventually we'd have to be caught. But if I go run the shop..."

"They'll recognize you and arrest you." Rachen finished.

"They don't know what I look like, I'd be..." Maric said in an attempt to defend his idea, but Rachen cut him off again.

"Recognizable by your voice." Rachen finished. "You and the girl had a lengthy conversation. Your voice would give you away."

Maric fell silent, he hadn't taken that into account, though the idea had merely been a rushed attempt to save their lives. In reality, there was still a slim chance of it really working.

"But I could man the shop instead." Rachen, said, his voice suddenly thoughtful. "They have nothing against me, and as the owner of this place, I could answer any questions they could ask, and deny any part in your little fiasco."

Maric nodded. That could definitely work as a plan. They had absolutely no reason to arrest Rachen if they even showed up, and Rachen could easily be seen as just an innocent shop keeper, trying to make a living. Or at least as innocent as a black mage could seem.

"You boys stay down here." Rachen ordered them. "And don't make a sound, you hear? If either one of you makes so much as a peep this whole thing could go up in flames."

Maric nodded again. " Don't worry uncle Rachen." He said, with a half smile. "We'll be good."

"Good." Rachen replied, and slowly began to lumber back up the wooden steps, towards the lit world above, but Maric's voice again stopped him.

"Oh and Rachen.." He addressed his uncle, who promptly turned his eyes on his nephew again. "Be careful up there, alright?"

Rachen smiled or as far as Maric could tell he would have, and for the first time in ages he seemed to look upon his nephew with fondness, and nothing more than that was mixed into his gaze. "Whatever I get up there I've had coming for a long time." He said, matter-of-factly. "You don't worry about me. Worry about yourself, and your little friend if you really want to. I have a feeling you two are going to find more to worry about than you can handle before this ordeal is done; I'm not the right person to add to that list."

With that, the old black mage lumbered back up the stairs, which creaked and groaned under his weight as he went, until he disappeared into the lit world. A second later, a loud bang was heard as the light at the top of the stairs went dark, leaving the two younger mages, Maric and Shane, one a red mage and one a black mage, securely hidden down in the basement, beneath the magic shop, their surrounding lit only by a single candle. A shiver ran down Maric's spine as a vague feeling of claustrophobia filled him. They were trapped down there really, being held captive almost, and he was trapped with a young man whom he'd met less than twenty-four hours ago. But suddenly, as the two mages stood there in silence, the darkness weaving around them like a mist, twenty-four hours seemed like a very long time.

"Maric?" Shane asked in a half-whisper, so as not to be heard by whoever was upstairs. "How does your uncle know my father?"

"I don't know." Maric replied simply, copying the black mage's hushed tone, and then added with a small chuckle. "It's pretty ironic ,really. The two us meeting like this."

Shane nodded in agreement, and strode absently over to one of the large mounds of books, and plucking one out at random, sat down and began to leaf through the pages, scanning each page briefly.

"It is." he voiced aloud this time, his voice still quiet, and he sighed. "A fated meeting, if you will, almost serendipity."

"A what?" Maric asked, as the large word had caught him off his guard. Though, it wasn't a surprise to him, no-one in his family had given a second thought to literature, and the only books Rachen ever read were spell books.

"Serendipity." Shane repeated. "It's like a chance meeting or discovery that brings good fortune."

Maric snorted. _Good fortune? _He thought, a rather wry smile spreading across his features. _He and I must have very different ideas of what 'good fortune' is. _And he casually strode over to the place where the mage was sitting, taking a seat next to him casually._ Though, I suppose in his case our meeting must've been pretty lucky: without me, he'd be dead. _

For a few moments, the two mages sat in silence, the only sound being the occasional rustle of old dried paper that crackled and snapped every time a page was turned. Maric looked at Shane, who appeared to be scanning each page of the book, looking intently at the illustrations, and the runes that were written across each piece of crumbling parchment. As the heavy awkward silence set in once more, an uneasy feeling rose in Maric's chest. Everything seemed so unreal, so dream like. He felt as if he'd always known Shane, even though they'd met less than twenty-four hours ago, and he felt as if none of this could possibly be real. This could easily be the end of his old life: no matter how things turned out things would change. He couldn't imagine life any other way; how could it be true?

He reached down to grab one of the books from the pile- this one had a smooth black cover with words spelled out in golden letters on the front, written in a language he couldn't understand- and he copied Shane's motions paging through the book and gazing at the illustrations to try to keep his mind from the situation, but to no avail. He couldn't avert his thoughts from the thought of Rachen confronting the soldiers, with only the plans of his seventeen year old nephew to rely on, or the thought of suddenly being thrust into a whole other world, another life. It sent shivers down his spine as he went over the scenes in his mind.

"Shane?"

"Hmm?" he asked casually, still staring intently at the old yellow pages of the book.

He paused for a moment. He hadn't exactly thought of what to say upon getting the mage's attention, at that point all he'd known was that he wanted to try talking with someone to get his mind off of what could be the near future.

"You know..." Maric began, fumbling with his words. "You.. ah.. you have a pretty good handle on that sleep spell. You said you weren't good at magic, but I thought that spell was pretty good."

"I'd hope it was good." Shane replied, turning another page. "It's the only spell I know."

"What?" Maric burst out in a harsh whisper, only at the last minute remembering to keep his voice low. "How can that be possible?"

"It's simple," Shane explained, a hint of annoyance now entering his voice. "You learn one spell and then never bother to learn any others."

"But why?" Maric asked, suddenly feeling quite a lot less threatened by the black mage that sat beside him. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I didn't want to." He muttered. "I mean, I wanted to learn, but I was never good enough at magic to get any other spells down. I got one spell under my belt, and then I just never caught on to anything else."

"All you really need to do is practice it." Maric replied, remembering how horribly he'd failed at his first attempt at spell casting. "It gets easier."

"But I don't like using magic." Shane admitted, closing the book suddenly and setting it down beside him.

"What?" Maric nearly exclaimed for the second time in a row. "But... why not? You're a mage! How can you...?"

"Not like magic?" Shane finished for him, and Maric nodded in affirmation. " I'm not sure. It's just the entire basis of magic, black magic specifically. It's all meant to cause chaos and pain, even if it's being used, at the time, to protect someone, or for self defense. It's just the amount of hatred you use to kindle it. Emotions- love, hate, fear, compassion,- all of it is all drawn together, bound within the words you speak. And as it happens, you aren't yourself anymore. Sometimes I worry about losing myself altogether."

The notion hadn't been one he'd ever thought of before. Losing yourself to magic. Maric had heard of men who died after using too much magic and draining themselves of so much life force energy, that they no longer had enough to live on themselves. That only happened to powerful mages, though, and happened when men could handle working with large amounts of mana. He'd always just ended up with a bad headache after using too much, and always ended up feeling lower than dirt the next morning, but nothing serious. This new notion was unnerving to the red mage, and suddenly he felt unsure of his own words.

"I don't think that can happen, Shane." Maric said, trying to dismiss the thought for both the adolescent black mage, and for himself. "One day you'll be glad to have that kind of power at your disposal."

"Given the situation we're in right now, I'm surprised you're thinking about the future like that." Shane said with a cynical chuckle. In only a few moments, the mage had changed his attitude quite a bit, and almost his personality. However it was hard to be optimistic in this kind of situation, and it was easy to see that even he was losing hope quite rapidly.

And suddenly reality began to set in. Here he was in the basement of his uncle's shop, while dozens of soldiers were roaming the streets looking for him, and asking about for information. He knew that any more he and his uncle had begun to gain a reputation for being a little odd. In some cases, more than a little: in fact his old house on the top of the hill had become that house that small children told stories about to each other in hopes of scaring someone out of their wits. So with a lot of soldiers snooping about in search of information, this would be the prime setting for all of the tales of witchcraft, otherworldly beings, and in some cases even necromancy to spring forth all at once. So the fact remained that even if the girl didn't turn him in, they weren't safe by any means, as all stories contain at least a little truth, and at least one had to point in the direction of the magic shop.

Maric stood up stiffly, letting the book he'd held fall from his hand to the ground. He walked to the staircase rigidly, looking up to the top where darkness now engulfed it's end in an eerie shadow that made the entire thing seem endless. Rachen was up there, at the mercy of the men of Corneria, vulnerable, easy prey for any man who really wanted to take him in. His hands balled themselves into fists, as he thought on it, his folly- leaving his uncle up there alone. They could have stayed hidden: it really wouldn't have made that much of a difference at this point. It was still almost inevitable: they were going to be caught an killed; this would just separate them until their final moments came.

And suddenly, a sound arose that made Maric's heart sink further into his chest than he thought it ever could. Footsteps, many of them, the little pitter-patters up above and there were a couple of them of them, Two at least. After a second they stopped, setting Maric's heart at ease for the moment. _Maybe he can do this. _He thought. _He might just pull this off. _The footsteps started up again, seeming to draw closer now, but they were calm, and slow paced. It was a good enough sign.

Maric walked over to another pile of books, keeping part of his attention turned to the sounds above, as to make sure the situation above didn't get out of hand. He peered around the pile, inspecting the area behind it for some discarded article of clothing. _That way, if anyone comes down here, Shane won't look quite so much like a murderer. _He noted, and began to scanning the area. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a large old mage's robe, faded to a light blueish purple color from use, and though it looked more like something Shane would use as a blanket than an article of clothing, he figured it would do for now.

"Here." Maric said, tossing the robe over to the black mage, who looked up from the pages of the book he'd been reading, and raised his hands to receive it.

"What's this?" The black mage asked, looking quite befuddled.

"A robe." Maric replied simple, and when Shane continued to stare at him with a confused look on his face, he added. "Put it on."

"Why?" Shane asked, still looking the old robe over as if he'd never seen an article of clothing in his life.

"Just put it on." Maric sighed, exasperated. He'd had just about enough of the mage's tendency to question just about everything, and with a life and death situation on their hands, and so many questions already echoing in Maric's mind, he feared too much more stress would put him over the edge.

"Well you sure are touchy this moment." Shane commented slipping the large garment over the tip of his steepled hat, and over his head which emerged out the other end a moment later, with quite a lot more ease then it normally should have, because of the fact that the fabric around the collar of the garment was so stretched from wear. "Why so tense all of a sudden?"

"Would you be a little on edge if a couple of very important lives were at stake, not to mention your own, at the hands of a bumbling idiot who couldn't think his way out of a paper bag?" Maric asked hotly. His words were harsh, and in many ways untrue: his uncle really was quite good at thinking on his feet most of the time. It was just the other twenty or so percent of the time that he was worried about, in which he would make a complete fool of himself.

"If you didn't think Rachen could handle the situation then why'd you put him up there?" Shane asked, as he slid his arms into the large folds of fabric that were supposed to serve as sleeves.

"I..." Maric began to answer the mage's question, but his answer fell short. "I don't know." he answered truthfully. "I guess I kind of... panicked."

Maric stopped for a second, and looked Shane over once more. His new attire was a slight improvement on the former bloodstained shreds of fabric that he had once called a robe. This covering was far from a perfect fit: in fact it looked, just as Maric had supposed it would, like he was wearing a bed sheet instead of a robe. The collar, which had been throughly stretched, only just draped itself over his shoulders, so that most of his old torn robe could still be seen beneath it. It's sleeves had been roaled together and bunched up in several places so that his hands could just about be seen from beneath the folds of fabric, and the rest of the garment draped so loosely about his thin body, that it was almost impossible to tell where the garment ended and the mage inside it began. In short, Shane looked absolutely ridiculous, and Maric gave a gusty sigh, putting his hand to his temple.

_I guess it wouldn't look too bad if the access layers were pinned back. _He thought, as he looked at the black mage again, shook his head slowly, and put a hand to his forehead.

"What is it?" Shane asked, cocking his head to one side, apparently oblivious to how awful he looked.

"Nothing, nothing." Maric lied, taking a few steps towards him and looking him over. "Umm... you wouldn't happen to have any sewing pins with you, would you?"

Shane shook his head. "Why do you ask?" He asked.

"Because right now you look like a buffoon." Maric replied bluntly. He strode over to the black mage, ripped a long strip of fabric off of the bottom of the faded blue cloak and, bunching up the access fabric around the collar, used the strip to tie back the massive folds.

"You're the one who told me to put it on." Shane mumbled in reply.

"I'm not saying it's your fault for being so small." Maric replied, taking a few steps back. The sleeves and body of the robe itself still looked far too large, but at least now his old robe was hidden from view, and it didn't look like his entire body could slip through the collar at any given moment. " That's a little better." He sighed. " But as soon as we find the time, we're getting you some new clothes."

"Why do I need to cover up my old robes?" Shane asked, looking down at the large garment in distaste. "I don't see what's wrong with it."

"If you haven't noticed, you look like you've just been thrown in a meat grinder, that's why." Maric replied. "We're covering it up because all of the blood makes you look like you've just finished some kind of genocide, and if we want to keep our heads, it's best not to go out looking like we've killed someone."

"It's not going to matter that much." Shane sighed. "If we get caught we're as good as dead. What, do you expect them to do, ask us if we're innocent? Even if they knew very well that we did nothing, that still wouldn't stop anyone from storming down here and sending us straight to the gallows. That's just how life works."

"I just don't want to give up hope yet." Maric said, walking over to the wall next to Shane and sitting down again, and the black mage did so as well. "It just doesn't seem right that we would be chosen for the crystals, but die while still possessing them. So early on too."

"You're still caught up in that Warriors of Light thing aren't you?" Shane asked, and Maric nodded in reply, slipping the red jewel out from his back pocket, and gazing into it's fine, intricately patterned center.

"It began with the prophecy" He began again, still staring into the jewel, still admiring it's dazzling pattern. Never before had he realized how truly magnificent it looked, and it seemed, almost, to give off a light of it's own. "An old friend of my father's, a witch named Matoya, was said to have met the man who originally came up with the prophecy, Lukahn. Of course, my father said a lot of things that were far from the truth, and according to him, so did Matoya, but Father believed in the prophecy so strongly, it's a hard thing to doubt. 'When darkness veils the world, four Warriors of Light shall come. If they cannot gather the shards of light, the darkness will consume all, and the four crystals will never shine again.' Cheerful little thing eh?"

"Yeah..." Shane muttered in reply. "And you believe it?"

"Kind of," Maric sighed. "I've been dwelling on the idea for quite a while now, though Rachen never accepted it. It was all just a bit of a dream then, but now, the fact that we both have these crystals that were talked of in the prophecy, and the fact that it was a prophecy made recently, as far as prophecies go, and just the way that we met. It could easily be a coincidence, but don't you think it could be something more."

" It could..." Shane agreed. "But even so, we are still only two of the four Warriors of Light. We have no way of finding the other two; they could be anywhere in the world, and we're stuck here in the basement of a magic shop. And how can we know it's our fate to become the warriors directly. Maybe our role in life is just to pass the crystals on from one person to another, to be given to the true Light Warriors. Gaia's fate doesn't exactly look very bleak yet, does it?"

"Maybe." Maric sighed, "But how can we know that. If we throw everything away now, and act as if it would be impossible for us to be the Light Warriors, we could end up making a terrible mistake. The land's death is a slow and steady process, but lately it has been rapidly gaining speed. Crops don't grow as they used to anymore, there is more marshland and desert now than anything, and the sea has become even more treacherous than before. Winters are becoming colder and harsher, and summers, drier, and hotter. It will rain for days, drowning our cities, and then drought will set in. Slowly, Gaia seems to be dieing, or killing itself, either or, and I've been noticing it more and more with each passing day. I just wonder how long it will be until everyone else does."

Shane fell silent, and seemed to ponder Maric's words for a second, but a second later he shrugged, and bent down to reclaim the book he'd been reading before, and turned back to his original page. Out of curiosity, Maric looked over the mage's shoulder to see what he had been reading so intently. Written on the page was a description of how to cast a basic Thunder spell. The entire thing was written in such a way that Maric was sure a three year old could have understood the book quite easily, but then again, Shane had said he'd had trouble comprehending the basics of spell casting in the past.

He simply continued to gaze into the pages of the book, and sighed deeply. Suddenly, he extended his right hand, and held it out in front of him, cupped. For a second, he stared at his open hand, his eyes hard and expressionless, then suddenly he stared out ahead into the darkness where the dim light of the candle failed to reach. The book fell from his lap onto the floor beside him, and a very faint hint of magical power penetrated Maric's subconscious for only a split second. Just that blip of power was enough to catch his attention, and he looked back to the black mage, just as he had begun to relax his arms, and shaking his head, and blinking a few times, reached back down, grabbing the book beside him and flipped back to the page he'd previously been reading as if nothing hat happened.

Maric continued to stare at the adolescent black mage with confusion written on his face. _What in the world was that? h_e thought, looking the mage over. _It was obvious that he was trying to attempt magic, but was it really that hard? _He chuckled internally, reclining back against the dirt wall again. _I guess he wasn't kidding. He really does have trouble with magic. Though I guess that's just as well: if he'd pulled off a spell down here, we'd be discovered for sure. Rachen would surely murder the two of us if the Cornerian Guard didn't at that point._

The thought of the Cornerian Guard and Rachen turned his attention back up to the action that was occurring upstairs, as he realized that he'd forgotten about the situation at hand when he got caught up into the Light Warrior story, and looked up at the darkness covered ceiling, hoping that nothing too drastic had happened in the seconds that he had let his guard down. What he was met with was the sharp, high pitched sound of breaking glass, and a couple of loud rushed footsteps. At that point, Maric didn't need to give himself any time to think, and he sprang to his feet and bolted to the staircase.

"Maric?" Shane whispered, and the red mage stopped in his tracks, turning around to him. "Where are you going?"

"Didn't you hear that?" Maric asked, gesturing wildly to the staircase. "Rachen's in trouble up there. We can't just sit around here."

"But Rachen said to stay here." Shane protested, looking around.

"Rachen says a lot of things." Maric replied, a touch of coolness in his voice, but he knew that he had to get to the scene: he knew he couldn't just stand by waiting for Rachen to perish. "You, stay here." He added as an afterthought to Shane.

With that bolted he up the stairs into the darkness. His hand flew to his belt, and he once again pulled his Rapier from it's sheathe, the blade's hilt feeling familiar to his hands. He threw himself against the large wooden door that separated him from the above world, the only real barrier between himself, and the conflict that lay in the lit world. It was a conflict he'd thrown his uncle into, just as he'd been thrown into it, and now he was determined to pull his uncle out of it at the very least.

The second he burst into the light, his strong, ambitious, force dissipated, and anxious fear and nervousness took it's place. He held his rapier tighter than ever now, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the long slender blade's handle, almost in a death grip. His heart was racing as he approached the curtain, the last barrier that kept him hidden from plain sight. His last sanctuary. _This is a mistake. _ He thought as he approached the long royal purple curtain. His other hand had balled itself into a fist from the tension of the moment. _There has to be another way to get us out of this. Something less reckless, and more tactical. There has to be something. _But no matter how many times he told himself that it existed, no other solutions could come to his mind. He'd gotten him up there, and because of his poor planning, he had no way of getting him back out. _It could already be too late. _He thought, his stomach turning another back flip as he took another step towards the curtain. _What if they already killed him? What if they're coming for me right now?_ He swallowed hard, and pushed aside part of the curtain to look into the main room of the magic shop, and almost immediately his face went pale.

The shop was in ruins, and when Maric looked out he could have sworn the once semi-orderly main room had been turned into a war zone. Most of the large wooden bookshelves had either been overturned or broken in some way shape or form. Pieces of wood and debris were everywhere, and the books which had once lined the walls were now heaped into mounds on the floor. Pages were ripped clean out of some of the more ancient texts, and even more were soaked with the contents of potion bottles, the pastel liquids seeping into the old paper, and running the ink together, rendering most of them unreadable. The only thing that still remained intact were the candles that lined with walls, which were held up by one of Rachen's spells. A stroke of luck for both Rachen and the two guards, as if one of those candles were to fall, the entire shop could easily burst into flames. Magical fire resisted wind quite well, so such a candle could not be blown out, just smothered or doused.

Rachen himself at the moment, was the very figure that grasped Maric's attention the most, binding him up even more in fear and guilt,and forcing him to look on. There on the floor, in the corner of the room, boxed in by the same two members of the Cornerian guard whom he'd met before, Rachen now knelt, with him back pressed up against the wall in a feeble attempt to escape the two swords that the two men held, their points poised to strike at any moment. The men were enjoying themselves; that was as clear as day to Maric, as their haughty laughter could be heard quite clearly from the back room, and they seemed almost relaxed as they stood there.

Over to the right of the two men stood a girl, looking about sixteen years old, and seeming very frightened of both the two sword wielding men, and of Rachen. _It's the girl from before. _He realized. _Then Shane spoke the truth: we really couldn't trust her._

The blond haired man idly turned his head, his gaze fixed on an utterly insignificant object somewhere in the room. Maric froze on the spot and paled: if the man saw him it would all be over. That would ruin everything. He knew if he pulled away from the curtain it would make a ripple in the cloth, a movement that would be easy to catch out of the corner of one's eye, which would raise even more suspicion for the two Cornerian men.

"So?" the brown haired, taller man said suddenly, breaking what appeared to be a long silence that had held the room. "Have you nothing more to say."

The other man's attention was brought back to Rachen, and Maric nearly let out a sigh of relief, relaxing slightly, and pulling his head out of the curtains quickly. He could listen just as easily to the men without watching them, and they seemed to still be prodding his uncle for information. It wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, being interrogated by a couple of sword wielding men, who looked just about ready to run someone through, but at least they hadn't done it yet.

"What more can I say?" Rachen asked, and though his words seemed to be delivered in a calm enough manner, Maric could hear a faintly frantic tone in his voice. He didn't blame his uncle, and recalling how he'd dealt with the same two men when he was atop the hill outside his little run down farm house, Rachen was handling the situation with far more skill than Maric could have. "What I have told you is the only truth I know. If you want me to make something up I could tell you that I'm actually the king of Elfland, but..."

"So you expect me to believe that you run this shop all on your own, without any assistance." The brown haired man continued, ignoring the stout mage's pathetic attempt at humor. "You're an older man; surely you have some shop hands around."

"W-well I've never needed one." Rachen replied. " I have my magic, and that's all I need. Besides, young black mages who are willing to work are few and far between."

"Then why not hire a young man with no training to be your assistant and in return teach him how to wield the dark arts?" the other man asked, a fierce bite in his voice, and Rachen remained silent.

Maric winced as the man said this._ They are after me. _He thought frantically, his heart racing. _This isn't about Shane at all._

"I still don't see where you're going with this officers." Rachen said after another moment of silence. "What does my having an assistant have to do with your little girl and her claims against me."

"There were two other men with you when she awoke." one of the men explained. " She claims that the two of them kidnapped her and brought her here, and that you held her in the basement of this shop, not allowing her to leave, using magic as a means to hold her down there. You are well aware that even here, the penalty for using magic to harm or hinder another being is death, am I correct?"

"Officers that's hardly reasonable!" Rachen exclaimed in defense. "Using a mere stop spell is barely even a crime, much less a crime that would deserve the death penalty."

"So you admit to having cast the spell?" one of the young men outside asked, with a sly chuckle.

"What?" Rachen asked, oblivious to the mistake he'd made, and from the back room, Maric put a hand to his forehead in dismay. _There's that twenty percent again. _He sighed mentally.

"I-I was just using that as an example. I meant nothing of it!" The old mage continued, but one of the young guards cut him off.

"Enough games! Get up; you're under arrest." He barked. " To your feet now, before I force you to them! Come now, if you come quietly like a good boy you might get a fair trial, maybe." And the two men snickered, laughing as a new set of footsteps slowly began to sound, moving away from the back room, and becoming quieter and quieter as they went.

_It's now or never. _Maric thought, clenching his teeth, and gripping his sword now as tightly as he possibly could. His stomach was turning back flips now; his heart was racing; palms sweating. Slowly he put a hand to the curtain and peeked out once again. The two men were positioned, one on each side of Rachen, leading him out the door in a military fashion. A certain kind of anger began to boil up inside of him. Hearing the two men interrogating his uncle was hard enough for him to take. The jeering laughs, and little crack every so often was enough to put him to his bursting point, but the one thing that put him over the edge, that would be the one thing that pushed him to fight, happened all in one moment.

The brown haired man, stepping rather heavily behind Rachen as they walked, quietly gripped the hilt of his sword and draw it up to arms' length, the butt connecting painfully with Rachen's lower back. Still rather disoriented from the struggle in the shop earlier, he let out a low hiss as his knees and hands caught his weight on the floor.

"Move it, mage!" the blond haired man snapped, spinning around. "Quit stalling."

"You two'll burn in the fires of hell for this, mark my words." Rachen muttered brazenly.

"What was that?" The blond man snapped again, giving him a sharp glare. "You'd better be grateful that I don't cut you down right now for that comment, mage."

"Unhand him! Now!" Maric's voice had cut through the room like a sharpened knife through paper before he could stop himself. He still hadn't moved from the doorway, and was still half hidden by the purple curtain, but none the less, he was ready. Ready for anything that they could hand to him. The only problem was, that feeling of self confidence vanished the split second the two armed men turned to look at him.

"That's him!" A feminine voice rang out from one side of the shop. "That's one of the men who kidnapped me!"

"Kidnapped?" Maric asked. " What are you...?"

"Don't play dumb with me, mage," The blond haired men cut him off, slowly advancing on him, while he other kept close tabs on Rachen. "It didn't work for your master here either. Now come, tell me, were you in this for the pay or for the power?"

"Wh-what?" Maric asked again, now thoroughly confused, yet again.

"We know your little secret, mage." The blond haired man hissed, coming down close to Maric now, stooping down slightly so that their eyes were level. The blond was the smaller and slighter of the two, but even he looked quite menacing up close. "We know how you've been plotting to overthrow us with your little spell casting friends. Now tell me, how many others of you are there?"

"What in the world are you talking about?" Maric asked, suddenly feeling quite a bit more befuddled than afraid at that moment. "I'm just a farmer: he's my uncle, and we're trying to raise an honest living here." Honesty was one thing they hadn't tried yet, and though it didn't seem like it would work, a pleasant surprise would be nice.

"Lovely." the blond man muttered grinning slyly. " You can stop lying now; just tell me where your little friends are, and we'll let your uncle go, and you can have your pathetic little family to yourselves."

"I know nothing." Maric insisted. "What part of that don't you understand?"

The blond man's expression turned to one of complete exasperation as Maric spoke, and heaving a sigh, he drew his sword, drawing himself up to full height as he did.

"I guess you aren't going to make this easy." He sighed, his voice seeming almost casual, and he brandished his weapon.

In a moment, the man had sprung into action, lunging at Maric head on, sword poised to make a blow, and Maric only just managed to raise his own sword in time. The impact sent a surge through his body, and he stepped back from the force, throwing his adversary off balance for a moment. He took that split second to lung in with his rapier, hoping to deal out some kind of a damage.

The guard's strike was swift, and his parries ever swifter, and just before Maric could clear the man's blade, he felt the longsword bat against his rapier once more. The impact of the two blades rang out with a hollow clanging sound, and Maric soon found himself being charged at again by the man only a split second later. Again he met the man's blade; and again he stepped back, hoping to throwing off the same way he had before, and was met with surprise when his foe stepped back with him.

The man whipped his longsword back out at Maric who caught it's blade with his own once more, but the flimsy rapier blade bent beneath the weight, and gave way for the man to attack. Maric felt his face flickering into a clear expression of his feelings, where his foe could see it clearly; blue eyes stared straight back into Maric's own, seeming to hold a feeling of amused indifference, perhaps even boredom. With one gesture he sent Maric's sword flying out of his hands, where it clattered to the floor.

Maric cried out as his only defense was wrenched from his grip, and he was left weaponless, with the blond guard's sword pointed at his throat.

"Come on now." He ordered. "Stop playing games here. I want you to tell me now, where are you associates? Where are your allies hiding? I have every reason right now to kill you, but a bit of information could change my mind."

"I've told: you I know nothing." Maric muttered. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Let Maric go, he hasn't done nothing!" Rachen cried out now, finally regaining his voice after the rather shocking series of events that had played out.

The blond guard turned his gaze to the older black mage, still keeping his sword aimed to make the certain killing blow at any moment. A sinister, wicked smile suddenly spread across his face. "You ought to learn to keep your moth shut, mage." He said, his voice venomous, and chilling, and he turned back to Maric, with an utterly malevolent gleam in his eyes.

Maric felt all the air leave his lungs as the man brought his elbow down right into his chest, and a ripple of pain short through his body like a bullet, sending him to the floor. He closed his eyes, gasping to regain his breath, but a hand stopped him, pulling him at once to his feet by the back of his shirt's collar, and a split second later a fairly thick piece of fabric worked it's way around his neck, pulled tightly and forcefully.

"So if your little friend wont tell us what we want, why don't you tell us?" the blond continued, his voice still full of malice. "In the meantime, let's play a little game: see how long a little mage boy can last without air. I was getting rather bored with the older one anyway."

Maric's eyes shot open again as his captor spoke. He looked to Rachen, and to the guard who held him captive, now no longer trying to conceal the fact that he was completely terrified. The cloth dug into his neck painfully, cutting off his breath completely. His hands darted instinctively to the cloth, and curled around it, feebly tugging at the cloth, but to no avail. The man had him trapped, once again.

"P-please let him go." Rachen pleaded again, the expression on his face, communicated by the pained look in his eyes, and and tone of voice he'd used, only made Maric's heart ache more than it already had. "H-he's just a lad, the only one I really have left, really. You can have me; I'm the one who committed the crime, not him."

_Even Rachen's putting himself on the line for me. _He thought, _This is twice, twice today, how can this be happening? Oh gods this is all my fault, I should have just kept to myself. Oh why did I have to go looking for trouble? _

A slow steady gripping pain was rising in his chest now as the effects of the lack of air began to set in fully. He couldn't help trying to breathe, trying to catch even just a single stray breath, but the man's grip was strong and firm, even growing gradually tighter still, and Maric's attempts were stifled completely. Such a thing only seemed to add to the guards' amusement, and the blond one let out a haughty laugh.

"Poor little mage boy. Sorry you didn't speak up sooner eh?" He chided him, and Maric glared back up at him teeth gritted against pain and anger, though no attention was payed to him. " I guess it's a bit late now. You'll just have to hope your uncle had the right answer."

"I'm telling you we don't have anything to do with this conspiracy thing you've been talking about." Rachen cried out. "We've never known anything about it: if there really is one, no-one's ever told us about it."

"That's too bad." Stephon sighed. "I guess your poor nephew is going to have to... well, you get the picture."

Maric's eyes widened now, as panic began to set in once again. He struggled and clawed at the makeshift noose, trying to free himself somehow, but his attempts were in vain: it was too tight, and lack of air had already begun to make him weak and dizzy. He tried focusing all of his weight on the fabric, trying to pull his way out of the man's grasp, but that only made the man pull the strings tighter.

Finally, as a new level of breathlessness set in, he stopped altogether, his expression softening as he gave in, and gave up. He looked up at Rachen one last time, and Rachen looked back at Maric. Grey-green eyes pleaded for help, for the help of his only true friend left on Gaia, the only person who could help him, and would help him, but the older black mage suddenly averted his gaze, lowering his eyes to the floor.

He'd given up, a man wielding so much power that could be drawn upon at any minute, any second really, just like that had thrown his weapon down and raised the white flag, Rachen, who had been ready to fight to the death at any moment, Rachen, who never backed down from anything, especially if anyone he cared for was in danger, Rachen the one black mage Maric could always count on, was letting him down. He was leaving Maric to be killed, starved of air, and then thrown away like an old rag.

He'd begun to feel lightheaded now, though he hadn't been held there for too long. The seconds seemed to drag on now, and it was becoming harder to concentrate. The man gave another sharp tug to the little makeshift noose, and he couldn't help giving a small gag as his body struggled to resist the pain.

"I wonder how long he'll last like that." the dark haired man laughed, grinning even wider when Rachen gave him another horror struck look.

"I'd give him just about another half a minute 'till he passes out." the blond man announced. "Then maybe another forty seconds until he's dead. Well just to be safe anyway."

"I say we don't kill him just yet." the brown haired man suggested. "I mean, where's the fun in that? I say we let him fall unconscious, then let him wake up and have him watch the old one die, then we kill him."

"Isn't that a little much?" the blond asked, looking at the taller guard with a bit of distaste.

"Who would really care?" the stocky guard asked with a huff. "They're mages; nobody is going to care about them."

Maric couldn't listen any more: hearing that kind of talk was too much for him to bear. _Now I know why Shane thought we were all alike, _he thought. _It's men like that who make us look bloodthirsty. _He looked to Rachen once more, but the old black mage payed him no heed, and didn't even seem to notice his nephew's pleading gaze. _Please Rachen, please help me. _He silently pleaded. _At least try. I don't want to die. Not like this. Please do something Rachen; at least look at me. Be with me up here, don't leave me alone._

His hands fell limply to his sides now, and his knees had already begun to buckle. The lack of air had left him weak, and the world seemed to be spinning, swirling before his eyes. He shut them, trying to shut out the pain; of course, it didn't help: nothing could, especially if Rachen couldn't. Everything looked far away now; even the blond man who had held him in this state seemed far away, detached. Voices sounded muffled, and distant though the men still conversed around him, and the world felt cloudy, and vague.

"Oh gods Maric." Rachen whispered. He had fallen to his knees now, helpless, just like Maric had. In a short while they would both be dead. "Oh ye gods save his soul, take mine as compensation, but leave the boy. Leave Maric."

"Maric watch out!"A sudden outcry from the back of the room caused all eyes to turn their attention from the situation at hand to that new one that would in seconds come into play, as a frail little black mage, clad in faded lavender robes that were far too big for him, revealed himself from behind the purple curtain, brandishing what appeared to be a wax candle, still lodged safely in it's iron base, still lit with magical fire.

A steady pool of a rancid light blue liquid had trickled down between the guard's feet, unnoticed in all of the excitement, extending just about to the other end of the shop, and all eyes widened as the little mage, stooped down, the lit candle still in hand, and touched the small flame to the end of the puddle. The effect was devastating. The once small flame irrupted into an inferno as soon as it touched the pool of chemicals, immediately casting the entire middle of the shop into flames.

The blond man jumped about a foot in the air as soon as the fire started, releasing his hold on Maric, and jumping away from the chemical fire, Maric staggered to the ground, taking one large ragged gasp as he did, coughing and gasping for air, but even through that there came relief as precious air filled his lungs, the prior gripping, numbing pain finally being relieved. He lay there for a good couple of minutes, paying no heed to the large fire that had ripped through he middle of the shop, just happy to be alive for the moment. He was dangerously close to the large wall of flames, billowing and dancing only about a foot away from him, but he couldn't muster the strength to even think about moving.

"Alright! It worked!" Shane cried jubilantly from the other end of the room, probably leaping with excitement at that moment. " It actually worked, ye gods, it worked!"

"Well you little louse, you ought to celebrate for now," the deeper voice of the brown haired man came from the front of the shop. " because soon enough I'll have you in such a world of pain that..."

A strong, bulky hand latched on to Maric's shoulder, and hauled him to his feet quite unceremoniously, but with enough care for Maric to know exactly who that very hand belonged to, and he smiled weakly up at Rachen who curled his large arms around him with a kind of tenderness Maric had never though his uncle was capable of showing. He looked back out at the scene before him, as the flames of magical fire cast long, thick, ominous shadows along the wall, bathing the entire shop in an eerie orange light, as a sudden, tense, even more eerie silence set in over the shop. It was a complete, dead silence, aside from the roaring of the flames that still rippled and danced beside them, a real switch from the once loud, chaotic scene.

A sudden silence had overtaken the magic shop, like the calm in the eye of a hurricane: the most dangerous place to be, with a devastating storm behind you, and an even more lethal one yet to come. All eyes had turned on the taller, stocky, brown haired guard, and on Shane as well, and the two stared at each other from across the room, each one displaying an equal level of shock, and hatred in their gaze. Shane gazed at him, almost trembling, his glowing yellow 'eyes' fixed on the man's features, and the guard, stared just as wide eyed at the mage, his steel gray eyes wide in utter disbelief, his mouth gaping. In a second, however, the guard's expression, twisted into a wry, malevolent smile, and Shane took a small step back, whimpering. A spark of recognition lingered in his gaze, and in Shane's as well, and as the two stared at each other, Maric felt as if he was sinking into the ground. He knew this battle was far from over, and though they outnumbered the men, two to three, it would be a bitter, bloody battle that would set in afterwards.

_**Cliffhanger! Dun dun dun...**_

_**So biting your fingernails yet? I hate leaving off here without getting very far in the plot. I feel as if that chapter seriously went nowhere. Gah! Evil school! Evil drama teacher who owns my soul! Evil choir instructor who also owns my soul! (It's a joint ownership type thing, very complicated... especially when dealing with souls.) Meh.. I'll try to be... ah... swifter next time, But I have an excuse.. this chapter was long. I didn't even get everyone where I wanted them in the end, but oh well. There will be plenty of time for that later.**_

_**'Till then, **_

_**Surfingpichu over and out.**_


	8. Chapter 7: Guilty Until Proven Innocent

_**Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Kwanzaa! Or... what every else you want to celebrate around this time of season. (Gee... it seems like I've done this before... like.. two chapters ago.) Been a while hasn't it? Don't worry I'm not dead, I didn't fall off the face of the Earth. I don't really have an excuse for being this late... I guess I should just say procrastination and leave it at that. ; So for anyone who is still reading this out there A Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa cookie for being so patient.**_

_**Magic Noise: Well (belated) congrads on your getting a lead role. Seriously that's awesome! (though.. a lot of work.) Anyway, I tried doing what you said about condensing more... erm... not sure if it worked or not.. but I've been thinking about it anyway. ;**_

_**Toxo: Wow.. high praise there.. I wouldn't say best. I think it's pretty good though.. and pretty fun to write. Well... I'm glad you like what I'm doing any rate. Thanks a bunch.**_

_**And a cookie to all you guys for reviewing.**_

_**Anyway... this chapter is rather unbeta'd right now... I'm still waiting for a reply from surskitty, (no hurry though... still it's all good.) but I'd set a little deadline in my head for Christmas at the very latest... and now It's Christmas.**_

_**Chapter 7: Guilty Until Proven Innocent**_

The solemn toll of bells from the old monastery across the lane told of the coming of noon. Their low somber melody spread across the land, touching the ears of all who dared to listen. The hollow monotone stretched far and wide over the land, so that even those at the farthest corner of town could hear their melancholy song. Even down in the town square where the market place was buzzing with sounds, men driving their carts quite aimlessly through the main streets, whilst shouting advertisements for their wears, and children rushing around in search of sweets and toys, the bells' song could be heard. By this time of day, the market square had come alive with business, men bargaining with salesmen over the price of a loaf of bread, young children begging their parents for gil to buy sugar candy, and merchants ringing bells high and shrill to attract potential customers. It had basically become a paradise for any pickpocket skilled enough to creep amongst the crowds of people without being noticed, and Celeste was no exception. Even hours earlier the square had been full of nothing but the same; an endless supply of income for those who had none, and the thief girl had taken full advantage of this time: the one day every month when trade was at it's peak. Now however, even though the crowd was steadily growing, and would only keep increasing in potential victims until the sun began to finally sink behind the mountains, thievery was the last thing on Celeste's mind as she raced through the streets of town, off of the road and into the Great Cornerian Forest where all signs of civilization disappeared. All she needed was to get away; away from the world, the magic shop, Talon and Stephon, everything, and everyone.

The world rushed around her like a whirlwind; her were eyes soft, and seemed to gaze right through the trees and rocks only vaguely paying attention to where she was going. Her mind was elsewhere, still back at that magic shop, where she knew all hell was breaking loose. It was back at the battle field where Cornerian Soldiers had pulled apart the forces of her team of thieves, slaughtering many and suffering few casualties themselves, and it was with her friends, Janice and Kate, where this whole ordeal had begun, just because she wanted to prove that she had experience at thievery.

_All of those ordeals... they all ended the same way. _She realized slowing her pace to a walk now that she was far enough away from the magic shop. _Every time I found myself in a tight position I ran away. Every single time, just because I didn't want to face the situations myself. Just because I was too much of a coward to confront anything head on. _

She sighed, and came to a halt, letting herself lean up against the rough ruddy bark of an old Maple tree that seemed to be slowly melting into the ground, and sinking down into a sitting position, let herself rest upon the forest floor. Above her the trees hung like a canopy, letting the sunlight stream through in little dappled pools. The branches whistled and whispered to each other as the wind blew through their autumn tinted leaves . Celeste hugged her knees close to her body and looked out at her surrounding, rich and colorful, yet foreboding. She knew it was dangerous to be out here, dangerous to go outside the city limits at the risk of being attacked by imps or mages, but right now she didn't care. Right now, all she could think about was getting away from the world, no matter how that had to be done.

Celeste shivered, pulling her legs closer into her chest and resting her head on her knees. In her mind she could still see that gaping, lightless passage that hid the magic shop from the lit world in a shadow of blackness, and in her mind, it was still in front of her, half daring her to enter it's endless shadow, half warning her against ever setting foot beyond where the sun's light could reach. _I never want to have to go in there again. _She thought. _I never want to have to go near that Odin forsaken place again._

She could still feel the sharp, cold prickle that had ran through her spine as soon as she entered that cold shadow that hid the magic shop from view, and and she remembered how entering it felt like stepping into another dimension. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat, and she felt like she was drowning in the darkness. It all seemed too unnatural, for the world to disappear in the blink of an eye, replaced by a sea of nothing.

_Then again_. She reminded herself. _They are mages. Most likely, it was just another spell._ She shivered. _Another spell, more magic. I suppose that's to be expected when dealing with mages, but still._

She remembered the deal she had made with the two guards, standing right there in the darkness, a deal that would not only improve their chances of success, but also save her own skin.

_The question that had spurred it all had come while the three of them were immersed in the cloud of darkness, asked solely for the sake of knowing, and out of blind curiosity. It had come out of nowhere, but what resulted, was a way for Celeste to make her way out of the situation she'd been placed in, and forced Celeste to trust the two guards far more than she felt comfortable with._

"_How did you find this place?" A voice asked. Whether it had been Talon or Stephon, Celeste couldn't tell. "Surely you didn't just see them walk in here and disappear into nothing."_

"_No." Celeste replied, her voice still icy and tense. "No I didn't."_

"_Then answer my question." The voice asked once again, now seeming a bit more agitated. "How did you find this place?"_

"_I..." Celeste fell short for a second, pondering whether to tell them about her run in with the mages; if she should give them away even more now than she had previously. There was a chance that if she gave them the proper information, she could escape in one piece. If the mages saw her with the two guards, she knew she would probably be killed by them, but if the guards ended up getting too occupied with the mages, since the fight was going to be three on two,and got the upper hand so that none of the mages had time to focus on her she could escape. However she was feeling a bit reluctant to work with, and to aid, the men that had killed those who were the closest to her. _Sometimes you have to fraternize with the enemy in order to stay alive in this world. _She assured herself, though only half believing her own words._

"_They brought me here." Celeste finally admitted. In all truth she was already betraying the three mages by leading the two nobles to the magic shop. There was little point in trying to keep her word now. _

"_Who's they?" Stephon asked, his footsteps suddenly coming to a halt. Celeste stopped as well, and spun around to face where she imagined her was standing in the cloud of darkness. "The mages?"_

"_Who else?" Celeste asked, biting her lip to prevent her from voicing any of the painfully sarcastic responses that were jumping about in her head now from coming up. _

"_Do you know who they were?" A very excited sounding Talon burst out now, and Celeste flinched at his sudden surge of fierce energy. "How do you know them? What else do you know about them?" _

"_They... I..."Celeste stuttered in response momentarily. "I didn't go with them of my own accord if that's what you're thinking."_

"_Then you were taken there against your will." Stephon concluded thoughtfully. "Kidnapped almost. But why? Why would they want to kidnap a commonplace thief like yourself? And more importantly, if you were being held captive there, then how did you manage to escape?"_

_Celeste's mouth went dry. In truth, she didn't quite know why the three mages had chosen her, of all people, to kidnap. Looking back on the situation, it looked like it could have been merely luck of the draw. She had run into the worst two people possible at the worst possible time. Nothing premeditated, or even slightly criminal, just bad luck on both her account, and the accounts of the two mages. That, however, was of little importance now. It was already clear that the two men were ready to arrest the mages, whether evidence showed that they'd done something worthy of punishment or not. However, if Celeste could bring herself out as the 'victim', it was possible that she could gain the sympathy of the two guards, and possibly be set free. She knew that if she tried to run away now, she would be cut down, and was probably going to be hung after the two men had drained her of every bit of knowledge she had, in reality, her knowledge of the mages was probably the only thing keeping her alive, as at this point, a death sentence for her was almost inevitable. However, giving the guards all of the information she knew with no guarantee that it would work out in her favor was risky, and taking risks in this situation could end up costing her her life._

"_Why do you need to know?" Celeste inquired at last. "And for that matter, why should I tell you? Tell me this, what exactly will I gain by telling you."_

"_You could gain the comfort of knowing that for the present moment your head will stay attached to your body." Talon growled, and Celeste was sure that he had once again reached for his sword._

"_F-fine then, cut me down." Celeste spoke boldly, though her mind was screaming in protest. In truth she was terrified of being cut through by the cold steel blade, but her brain was still working despite her instinct's internal pleas. She knew she was taking a risk. There was a chance that her life wasn't as important to the two men as she'd estimated, and that she would be cut down on the spot now for her failure to cooperate, but since the words were out, she went on. "Th-then you'll see how much information a dead man can give you. I assure you, I can tell you much more with my head attached to my body than without."_

_There was a long, tense pause. Neither of the nobles spoke, and a heavy silence set in over the three of them, the two men now seeming quite awkward despite their obvious advantage over Celeste. The thief girl almost smiled. Luck had somehow been on her side in this moment. Her words had effected the two men exactly as she'd hoped they would, the two would now be forced to give her the chance to set her own conditions, instead of being forced to obey theirs. It was obvious that they needed her alive for the moment, and it seemed that they were ready to go out of their way for the information she held._

"_I can tell you everything you need to know." Celeste went on now, her tone far more relaxed now, and almost strong and commanding. "I can give you a strategy for combat, information on where they are and tell you everything I know. I've been in their domain, and I know, even from my brief run in with them, quite a bit about how they work. I can give you all of this in exchange for one thing."_

"_What is it?" Talon demanded, his voice holding a desperate, if not hopeful tone. "What could we give you to get that kind of information?"_

_Celeste smirked. " Just promise me you'll let me go, and clear the names of the rest of the thieves that you arrested. Do that and only that, and I'll tell you everything."_

"_W-What?" Stephon cried, clearly shocked by her conditions. "We can't do that! It goes against every law in our.."_

"_We'll do it." Talon affirmed, cutting his partner off. Stephon gave a grunt of surprise and confusion at his friend's bold statement, but Talon went on. "We'll let you go, and you head will be cleared as will all of your comrades, so long as you stay with us until all of the mages are taken into custody. Just to make sure you're being true to your word."_

"_Talon!" Stephon cried at once. " Talon you can't do that! We couldn't... y-you can't...!"_

"_Tell us everything you know." Talon urged now, in a voice laced with anticipation, and a cunning kind of thoughtfulness that Celeste was sure was mirrored on his face as well. Celeste smiled, and began on command. _

The thief girl had given the two guards every bit of information that she had retained from her 'kidnapping' as the three of them had decided to term it . She told them how the two men had hit her with a sleep spell, and had forced her to stay down in a musty old basement, casting a spell on her that bound her in place and seemed to freeze every muscle in her body in order to keep her there. She told them of her struggle to escape, talking of how the three had threatened her with a death spell, and of how she had just about managed to escape alive, though she conveniently left out the fact that she'd held one of them at knife point in order to make her escape, and that the three in reality hadn't seemed to have meant any harm to her in the first place. She told them everything she knew about their weaknesses, and about their strengths. She told them approximately how long it took the mages to cast a spell, and how by threatening the life of one mage, it would cripple the other two. It was apparent to Celeste that the three all felt rather strongly for one another. They were probably all related, and at least in the same immediate family, and because of these strong family ties couldn't stand to see someone that close in danger. That said, all one would have to do in order to have all three mages bend to your every whim, is to put one of them in a tight position. She told them of their location in the basement of the shop; hidden in a blanket of darkness beneath the wooden floorboards, and as long as they stayed there they were sitting ducks.

"_The key," She had explained to the two men. "is to give them a reason to be afraid of you, and to refrain from attacking. Just bursting in there and screaming "you're all under arrest" isn't going to be enough because most likely they'll just kill the two of you on the spot. Stay on your guard, but don't pose a direct threat. Now I'm pretty sure that these guys don't like to fight without a reason, but if you give them a reason to go on the offense, you'll most likely be dead within a matter of seconds, so you should probably act casual and lull them into a false sense of security, almost act like you're a friend, and then strike while they are off their guard. Anyway just have one of you distract them, and give the other enough time to sneak down there and catch the one nearest to the stairs at knife point. Then you've got them in the palm of your hands."_

She bit her lip as she thought back on her words. How she'd shamelessly sold the mages out, without thinking once about her previous words, or about how truly deceitful she had been. _That's what they get. _She told herself, though she only half believed her own words. _That's what they get for trusting a thief. _ She sighed. _A thief like me._

_She remembered leading the way over to the old door, seeing the red, slightly luminous symbol that was situated directly above the shop's entrance, smelling the dank, heavy smell that surrounded the shop that resembled a mixture of tobacco and strong chemicals, and feeling the slight prick of magical presence about her like little needles crawling up her arms and legs, but she couldn't remember thinking anything, except of course, about how dark it was and how every fiber in her body was screaming for escape. Her movements had been subconscious, almost mechanical, she felt like someone else had control of her limbs, of her body. That she was just a lifeless doll in the hands of a puppet master, forcing her to abide to his every whim. She could remember, for a second, feeling a twinge of remorse, almost pity for the mages she was about to condemn to death the second she pulled the door open , as she curled her fingers around the door's cold, brassy handle. The two Cornerian guards practically threw her aside as soon as the dim light of the magic shop sliced through the dark shadow, and the two men burst through the doorway with a startling amount of rigor. The two of them stood side by side, swords drawn and ready, she had followed them timidly half hiding behind them as she walked, and though their presence wasn't exactly comforting she felt a tad less jumpy with those men between the mages and herself. She knew as long as everything went smoothly she wouldn't even have to come in contact with the awful creatures, as they were probably still hidden securely in the basement of the shop, and wouldn't even know she was there, but for Celeste just reentering the shop made her heart leap, and fear had already begun to flood every inch of her being, as she stepped through the doorway ._

_As soon as she entered the room, however, she froze completely, tightening every muscle in her body, and the color drained completely from her face. For sitting behind a desk in the far corner of the room, surrounded by an assortment of miscellaneous items sat a black mage, who was very much aware of their presence. He was a rather stout man, clad in a dark violet robe, and atop his head was, of course the ever present straw, wide-brimmed steepled hat that cast a dark shadow over his face, obstructing it from view, and those two piercing, pupilless yellow orbs, always watching everything, everywhere. For a second, the violet clad mage had sat rather stiffly behind a wooden desk, just watching them as they entered the room, seeming to have anticipated their arrival; he seemed rather nervous, that was obvious, but not surprised at all by the two sword wielding men who had burst into his shop. He watched them carefully and silently, as they entered and for a second a heavy silence that Celeste was sure she could have cut with her knife lingered between the three of them and the lone mage._

"_Well?" The mage had urged them, his sudden brashness almost startling both the Guards as well as Celeste herself. "What do you want? I haven't got all day."_

_Stephon cleared his throat. "We have orders from th-the high court of Corneria to search this establishment." He announced in an unnecessarily loud voice. For a moment he seemed afraid of the man, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke, and his fingers gripped his blade so tightly that his knuckles went white. _

"_Really?" The mage asked, in a slightly dubious tone. "And, what might you be looking for?"_

_For a second there was a crushing silence on Celeste's end of the room. The thief girl could feel her heart sinking to the bottom of her chest and then into her stomach; things up to this point couldn't have been worse. She hadn't even considered what would happen if the main room was being watched, in truth, she had based her entire plan on the sole fact that the three mages were still in hiding. Now that this had happened, a good number of Celeste's ideas had been rendered useless, and with Stephon attempting improvisation, she could see them getting nowhere fast. They had justification for the arrest, but not to search the shop, a mistake in Stephon's plans, and if things continued on this path, all three of them were doomed for sure. The girl flushed, her cheeks turning bright red, and she suddenly felt ready to melt into the ground, quite embarrassed by her shortcoming, and by Stephon's. She could feel her legs itching to run even then. Just to bolt from the scene and leave everything behind, to run and start everything over again from the beginning. _

_To her relief Talon at last spoke out, raising his sword threateningly to eye height, and locking his steely eyed gaze into the black mage's glowing yellow orbs._

"_You have no business in our affairs." He growled. "We are being kind by informing you of our search instead of just killing you instead." Celeste winced inwardly. _What ever happened to not posing a direct threat? _She questioned him silently, shaking her head in disdain. _He's doomed us all.

_A sudden change came over the black mage as Talon uttered these words, though, to Celeste's surprise, they didn't involve the man attempting to fry anyone. In fact quite the opposite happened the black mage stiffened once more, dropping both of his meaty arms to his side and for a second, glancing to the purple curtain at the back of the shop. Finally he spoke "W-well by all means my good sirs!" and bolted up from his seat as fast as his stout structure would allow him to move, with the sound of assorted chains and medallions jingling together musically proclaiming his every movement. With a nervous chuckle he continued. "My shop is your shop, what ever you need you can take."_

_Talon nodded, smirking momentarily before giving a reply. "Thank you very much sir" He gave a small mock bow, keeping his blade held aloft and his eyes locked upon the black mage. _

_He turned around briskly and began to almost casually inspect the book lined walls, pretending to search for some imaginary object of significance. Stephon soon joined his brother as they slowly began to work their way around the shop, carefully inspecting their surroundings as they went. Celeste lingered to the back of the shop, as far away from the black mage, shopkeeper as possible. So far, Talon had worked some real magic with his words, which, if spoken from Stephon, may have very well gotten them killed. He apparently had some respect for Talon, significantly more than he had for Stephon at any rate, though that might have merely been because Talon was the one with his sword brandished. Even so, he seemed to have an uncanny kind of control over the mage, something that made Celeste feel quite a bit uneasy around the stocky swordsman. _Maybe I'm just over thinking the matter. _She reasoned with herself. _It's not as if any of this really matters to me anyway.

_For a few minutes the scene played out very slowly, the two swordsmen whispering to each other as they walked, pretending to be occupied by the various assortments of jeweled charms, as the shop owner lingered to the side watching anxiously, his eyes looking from Talon and Stephon, to the purple curtain that hid the storage room. Ever so slowly the two were inching towards the curtain, remaining as casual as possible. Talon remained slightly behind, and was constantly glancing back at Celeste, probably to ensure that if she attempted to escape, he could head her off first. Their plan was obvious: just make your way to the back room, 'accidentally' discover the trapdoor that leads to the cellar, have one swordsman take the old mage as a hostage and lure out the other two. It was simple, it almost seemed too easy, too good to be true, but if it worked, Celeste would be free, and Stephon and Talon would be satisfied, and that was all that she really wanted. _

_Feeling a bit more at ease, Celeste took the time to eye the merchandise hanging on the walls of the shop. Adorning the walls in several places were chains made of gold and silver, medallions sporting Emeralds and diamonds, jewels of all shapes and sizes, all of them intricate and delicately designed, and bound to fetch a hefty sum on the streets. With the black mage shopkeeper obviously preoccupied she knew a little thief girl would be the last of his worries. _Maybe this trip is worthwhile after all. _She thought, inching towards one of the jeweled medallions hanging from the walls. _

They'll probably have some kind of magical property. _She thought, as she gingerly removed one of the jeweled charm necklaces off of the wall, fingering it carefully. It was a beaded one, quite a lot longer than any other necklace she'd ever seen, and hanging from the middle was a bright yellow fang that hung between golden beads that each held a topaz gem. She could feel a light buzzing beneath the cold metal, and it felt warm beneath her skin, bursting with energy and made the hair on her arms prickle slightly when she touched it. She shivered, holding something in her hand that was so capable of destruction was certainly a bit nerve racking, but she pocketed it quickly: she had no intention of being caught. Not when the moment was so open, when the act was so easy to commit. So simple it would be shameful to actually be noticed._

"_So what exactly is behind here?" Stephon's voice inquired from the far end of the shop, and Celeste looked up from her work, turning around and clasping her hands behind her back casually. The swordsman had so far done just as Celeste had expected. Truly, there wasn't very much more he _could _do, and was one of the safest options he had._

"_Just the storage room." The old black mage quickly answered him, taking the moment to take a few steps towards the swordsman. "You probably won't find anything interesting in there, but if you want to see for yourself..."_

"_Yes actually I would." Stephon cut him off. "If you don't mind, that is."_

"_Of course not." The shopkeeper exclaimed with a light chuckle. "Look anywhere you like."_

_Celeste watched this scene silently from the other end of the shop as the black mage held the violet curtain aside as Stephon entered the doorway. _Something isn't right here. _She thought, furrowing her brow. _Why would he let Stephon get by so easily? And why is playing along like this for that matter. He probably knows my face, he knows I led them here, and he probably knows what Stephon and Talon are looking for, and for the record, he probably could have taken at least one of us out the minute we walked through the door. _She looked back to the black mage once more. _What is he waiting for?

_At once the thief girl did a double take, her eyes widening as realization dawned on her, and as she watched the spell caster's hand suddenly dart down to his belt and seize one of the beaded charms that hung there. _

"Rachen has a charm for a death spell. He could kill you on the spot if he wanted to." _She recalled the words of the young man whom she'd held at knife point, as the shopkeeper slowly twisted the beaded charm around his fingers. _He's going to kill him. _She realized in a panic. _Why didn't he see that coming? Why didn't _I _see that coming?Oh gods what do I do?

_For a second she just stood there, mute, and frozen, her mouth dry and hanging agape. Talon was still preoccupied in his act, pretending not to notice his comrade or the black mage, who was apparently named Rachen. _What do I do? Do I let him die? It really wouldn't effect me if I did, that would give me room to escape. To where? Where would I escape to? I can't go back to the thieves hideout. They wouldn't accept me back now, not after all the trouble I've caused. I'm the reason so many innocent lives were lost. The life of another is in my hands right now. I can save him, I have to save him, or at least let him know he's in danger. I have to do something, don't I?

_Finally she succumbed to the pressure. She couldn't stand watching she could very well be the last moments of Stephon's life. Thinking back on her actions, she knew they made little sense. She could have just let him die, she could have easily just ran from the magic shop, just as the young man hit the floor, and Talon's attention was directed fully at his fallen comrade. It would have saved her a lot of strife, she knew, but in those moments, she couldn't bare to let that murder happen before her eyes. "Stephon, behind you!" She cried out at last, breaking the silence that had filled the room. Talon was the first to react to her cry, whipping around at once, staring at her as if she was mad. Stephon too did an about face, looking first to Celeste, and then to Rachen who jumped back dropping his beaded charm to the ground, as soon as the swordsman's eyes locked on his features and he stumbled backwards as Stephon brandished his weapon before the rather frightened black mage._

"_What was that, mage?" He roared as the stunned sorcerer whimpered, slowly inching away from the sword that was pointed as his throat. Stephon took a step forward. "What are you trying to do?" _

_Stephon stooped down to the floor, snatching the beaded charm up from the floor and turning it over in his hand. "What's this now?" He asked. "Some kind of necklace? Come now, what is it used for? What were you trying to do?" _

_The mage just shook his head, backing up even further so that he was pressed against one of the bookshelves. "It... that's nothing," He began to explain "just... just a little trinket. That's all"_

"_It's a charm." Celeste cut the elder mage off, stepping forwards. "They... mages use them to cast spells."_

_Stephon looked from Celeste to Rachen and back once more, a wry smile spreading across his face. "So, let me guess." Stephon began, acting almost casual. He began to circle the black mage slowly, his sword still poised to strike. "You just wanted to get behind my back so you could kill me. Was that your plan?" The mage shook his head fiercely, his eyes now wide and pleading as he pressed himself up against the bookcase. Still Stephon persisted. "You almost had my pity for a moment, but no, you're just as despicable as the rest of your kind. You're under arrest."_

"_F-for what? What have I done?" Rachen spluttered, attempting to inch away to the right, but soon a second sword joined Stephon as Talon joined his comrade. _

"_What have you done?" Talon repeated, sounding almost surprised. " You tried to kill my brother, that's what you've done, and on top of that you participated in a kidnapping. Just how stupid do you think we are?"_

"_Kidnapping?" Rachen exclaimed, laying a look of bewilderment on Celeste. " Wh-what do you... you think I...?"_

"_This young girl claims you kidnapped her and held her hostage in this establishment, you and two accomplices. Is this true?" Stephon retold Celeste's story as the thief girl stood nodding in the back, trying to ignore the hateful looks that Rachen threw to her every so often._ It is for the best. _She assured herself, trying to ignore his gaze. _Isn't it?

"_I did nothing of the sort." Rachen insisted stubbornly, seeming a bit angry now as his previous, brash aura returned. "I've had enough of your little game. You three'd better leave this place now, unless you'd like me to drive you out myself."_

_Talon's smirk returned as the mage said this, and with a scornful laugh he advanced on the mage, his sword inching dangerously close to the black mage's breast. "Those are strong words, mage." He sneered. "Especially for someone with two swords to his neck and nowhere to run. I'm intrigued now, how do you plan on 'driving us out', as you said?"_

_For a second, the black mage was silent, as if he himself did know how he would turn his words into actions, and Celeste didn't doubt that he hadn't really though about how he would carry out his threat before he'd spoken, but his pause didn't last very long, and a second later, the mage seized hold of the side of one of the bookcases lining the walls and shoved it in the direction of the two knights. Stephon let out a little cry jumping out of the range of the falling bookcase, which exploded into a pile of lumber and splinters as it hit the ground, throwing debris and broken glass from vials of potion and other chemicals that began to leak out from under the rubble. Talon, who hadn't been in danger of being hit by the large wooden structure,stood there for a second gaping at the black mage, taken by surprise by the mage's sudden move, and for a second, he could only watch as his victim began to lumber as fast as he could towards the front door. Shaking himself the knight finally took action, and threw himself in the mage's path sword drawn, hoping to catch him off his guard. Seeing Talon in his path, Rachen stumbled backwards, slamming into another one of the bookcases which immediately toppled back onto it's side._

_The black mage again drew himself onto his feet, only to be met, once again, with Stephon's blade, but this time, his wits appeared to be about him as he quite swiftly seized one of the far less decorated looking charms from his belt and, pulling it taught with both hands, used it to catch the blade. His move worked to slow the young man's movement for just a second before the string that held the wooden beads together snapped, sending a torrent of the small wooden orbs clattering to the floor, and though the move hadn't bought him a large amount of time, it stalled Stephon's movements long enough to allow the stout old black mage to scamper over to the wooden desk on the other side of the room and take refuge beneath the wooden structure._

_Talon now joined Stephon in his attack upon the poor mage, and the two dashed over to the wooden desk behind which Rachen had thought to take cover from the attacks of the two swordsmen. Talon grabbed hold of the desk, and shoved it aside swiftly as Stephon readied his sword for a strike. The old man flinched back as the young swordsman raised his sword above his head, his yellow orb-like eyes growing wide with fear but as the sword began to make it's decent towards it's target, the black mage raised his arms once more, with one of the beaded charms wrapped in an intricate weaving pattern about his stubby fingers. "_Protect!_" The spell trigger was uttered just as the blade reached the opening between Rachen's outstretched arms, and there it stopped, bouncing off of the air as if it had hit a solid wall. The two men staggered backwards from the force of the impact, their swords ringing in protest as Rachen slowly got to his feet once again, his hands still held out at arms length, as if holding the invisible barrier in place, with what Celeste imagined was a smug smile plastered across his face._

_Again the two lunged at him, their swords swinging left and right, up and down and sideways all in feeble attempts to cut through the invisible barrier that Rachen had created, but to no avail. No matter how hard the brothers tried to cut through the mage's magical shield, their swords still never reached the old man's flesh. A certain smugness had come over the black mage as he parried the blows, his movements suddenly becoming quite casual and relaxed, with a confident, almost arrogant air about his movements._

_Talon glared at the mage through gritted teeth, frustration now showing clearly upon his features, and his eyes held a dangerous glint of determination. His hands gripped his swords now tighter than ever, now in both hands, and he advanced on the black mage a hostile aura seemed to accompany his presence. Rachen took a rather hesitant step backwards, his shoulders going slack as his confidence left him, and as the brash, violent noble lifted his sword high above his head and suddenly, with all his might swung the heavy sword down upon the black mage's shield like a club. The impact knocked Rachen back about two feet, where he fell to the floor about a foot away from the far corner of the room. Stephon now stood over him, a smirk on his face as he raised his sword and smote the barrier, driving the tip of his sword into the hardened air. For a moment it stayed there, just hovering as Stephon forced his weight upon the pummel of his blade, and for a moment Rachen still seemed to mock the swordsman's attempts at breaking his barrier with his calm , indifferent presence , but as Stephon slowly forced the sword down , and the blade began to inch close and closer to the spellcaster, his confidence dissipated instantly. All at once the sword sunk about an inch in the air as a faint cracking noise was heard, and a smile of triumph worked it's way across Stephon's features, and an equal level of distress could be seen within Rachen's 'eyes' . _

_All at once the barrier broke, and with almost no warning what-so-ever Stephon's sword plummeted down through the air, a sharp high pitched noise like that shattering of glass rang out, augmenting it's decent. It buried itself about three inches deep into the wooden floorboards with a hallow thud, cutting through a layer of violet fabric as well, about two inches away from having gone through Rachen's right arm. He was now looking up at Stephon, shaken, and terrified, though relatively unharmed. Talon's sword pointed itself at Rachen's neck, and, after a good yank had freed it from the floorboards, so did Stephon's. _

"_So sorry this all had to be so difficult." Stephon taunted; his tone sarcastic and dry. " Now tell me, mage, why did you kidnap this girl."_

_He gestured to Celeste, who tensed once more after hearing her name. Another pang of guilt struck her. _ It barely even was a kidnapping. _She thought, looking to the ground. _They were going to let me go. And that man, he fixed my arm from... from what ever was wrong with it. Maybe they were just afraid, but no, mages are never afraid. Why should they be, they could have killed me easily if they'd wanted to. _She sighed again. ..._But they didn't. I wonder why.

_I wonder why._

"_I d-didn't." Rachen insisted. "I swear I never saw the girl before in my life."_

"_So then who did?" The knight demanded. "Who brought her here? A friend, an accomplice, an apprentice maybe? "_

"_No-one did," Rachen began again. "I just told you she's never been here before, I haven't been out of the shop since the early hours of the morning."_

"_If she's never been here before then how did she find her way to this god forsaken place?" Talon asked. "She would have never been able to stumble upon a place like this on her own."_

_The black mage stiffened at this, realizing his error. "W-Well..." He began awkwardly, before regaining his composure. "How am I supposed to know that? I don't know how she found the shop, the entire business thrives by word of mouth." _

"_Don't play dumb here mage." Stephon growled, giving Rachen a sharp kick to the ribs and, causing him to double over in pain. " The girl's already told us the entire story here, we're just here to get facts. Why did you bring her here, and who were the other two that were involved?"_

"_I-if you already k-know, why're you asking me?" Rachen asked through gritted teeth, clutching his chest. " Why are you here?"_

"_I just told you." Stephon explained, his frustration reaching it's peak. "We need to get facts and I need to know where you're hiding the others."_

"_Others?" Rachen repeated, attempting to feign confusion. "What others?"_

"_We know you're hiding at least two other people here. What is this, a sanctuary for your kind? A little hide out where you can plot your rebellion maybe. Get back land that's rightfully yours and all of that useless bile?" Stephon asked, his eyes fierce, and his voice even more so. "We already know your little plot, don't think we're stupid we've already got you all figured out. Just admit to it. Confess to us and we'll let you all off with a life sentence for any who don't try to resist. Anyone else won't be so lucky."_

_Now Rachen really did look confused, as did Talon. _This isn't about the mages any more, is it? _Celeste thought._ I don't really know what it's about now. Oh what have I gotten myself into now? What have I gotten them into for that matter? They haven't done anything. There's no way the three of them could be an army, or be plotting anything in that large a scale. _She shook her head. _What am I doing?

"_Go on." Talon urged the black mage from behind Celeste now, but she payed him little attention now. _

It's their fault Kate is dead, _Her thoughts went on. _ their fault I got into this whole mess, their fault I've nearly lost my life twice today. It's their fault, all their fault.

_A sharp cry could be heard from the corner as Rachen was knocked to the ground a second time by means unknown to Celeste. "Stop covering up mage, give us the straight story." Talon barked._

"_I-I am." A very shaken Rachen murmured, sounding defeated, and humbled greatly. "If you would just let me speak..."_

"_Then speak!" Stephon urged laughing. " Speak like the lowly dog you are."_

_Celeste turned away, she couldn't bare watching the two men interrogate the mage. Their tactics were too discomforting to watching, bordering on being cruel, even to that of a black mage. Even if he was a killer, it was to much to watch the punishment blow for blow._

_She almost felt low, watching those two men practically tormenting the mage, with their brutal ways. She felt as if she were receiving the blows as well, each time the mage cried out, begging for them to stop, each time Stephon snapped at him for not giving clear enough facts, or threatened to impale him when his story went off on a tangent. She almost felt for him, almost. She was almost sorry that she had sold them out, almost sorry that she had aided the two knights, eve if it was for her own well being, and for a second, she almost wondered if black mages actually could have feelings._

_As she looked around the room, sorting out her feelings of conflict, she at once noticed a slight ripple in the purple curtain at the back of the shop. The two brothers had their backs to the doorway that lead to the storage room, since they were facing the opposite wall, and payed to heed to that sudden surge of movement in the back of the shop. Celeste gave a quick glance in the direction of the curtain and was sure that she saw a young man's face peering out from behind the curtain. _Is that him? _ She wondered. _Is that one of the men who tried to kidnap me? _She began to inch towards the door. _I have to leave, I can't let this go on any longer. _She backed up against the door._If they catch him too, there will only be more trouble. I can't take it anymore.

_Stephon turned now to look at Celeste, and she tensed once again under his eyes, jumping away from the door as she did. Stephon glared at her,and she shrunk under his gaze. _That isn't going to work then. I can't sneak past them.

_As soon as Stephon took his eyes off of her and turned back to his work, Celeste looked to the curtain once more, and her spirits sunk as she realized that the young man was no longer there. _Did I imagine it? _She wondered. _No, I couldn't have, he had to have been there. _There was no mistaking it, there had definitely been a boy's face peering out from the back room, but now the curtain was still and held no evidence that the boy had ever been there._

"_Is that all you have to say?" Talon finally asked._

_Rachen nodded. "What more can I say?" He asked in a defeated sounding tone. "What I have told you is the only truth I know. If you want me to make something up I could tell you that I'm actually the king of Elfland, but..." _

Is that it? _She wondered. _Are they going to be leaving now? Am I going to have to come with them? I can't approach the king like this! What happens now? I have to find some kind of diversion, but the young man is gone, so I can't use him. What do I do now? I have to leave, but I can't. One of them would notice me if I tried to sneak out, and I haven't got time to create a diversion.

"_Enough games! Get up; you're under arrest." Talon shouted now, looking exasperated. " To your feet now, before I force you to them! Come now, if you come quietly like a good boy you might get a fair trial, maybe._" _A the brothers shared a small laugh at this, and as the black mage finally shifted himself to his feet, staggering slightly, Stephon grabbed Celeste by the arm. The girl flinched, and she just about stifled the urge to cry out. He took a position on the old man's right hand side, giving Celeste a look of warning before letting go of her arm. She glared back at him as soon as his back was turned, but she knew she couldn't escape now. Their swords were still drawn, and they were still perfectly capable of using them on anyone the needed to. As they approached the door the two men shifted sides, now positioning themselves one in front of the black mage, and one behind, but as the two began to make their way out the door, Talon, though Celeste would never be sure exactly what the reason was for it, without any warning what so ever, raised the pummel of his sword and, with quite a bit of force drove the blunt side of the weapon into the mage's lower back. He uttered a low disgruntled cry, staggering to the ground on his hands and knees. _

_Stephon whirled around as soon as Rachen stopped moving, his brow furrowed in disapproval. "Move it mage." He commanded him. "Quit stalling."_

_Slowly the black mage attempted to get to his feet once again. "You two'll burn in the fires of hell for this." He growled, shooting a hateful glare towards Talon. "Mark my words."_

"_What was that?" Talon demanded at once, turning his broadsword upon him once again. " You'd better be grateful that I don't cut you down right now for that comment, mage." _

"_Unhand him! Now!"_

_A voice from the back of the magic shop suddenly rang out though the air, and Celeste reeled around to see that that same young man that she had spotted before, was now sanding in the doorway, still half hidden behind the violet drapery, he had long white hair and a rather thin, lanky build, but despite his weak looking structure his stance was strong and threatening. Talon and Stephon turned to face the young man as well, pulling their swords as they did, and Rachen followed their movements with a look of dismay seeming to have formed in his eyes. As soon as attention had been drawn to him, the white haired boy's strength seemed to leave him. _Perfect._Celeste though. _Sorry mage boy, this isn't a lucky day for you is it?

"_That's him!" Celeste cried out pointing right at the young man. "That's one of the men who kidnapped me!"_

_The red clad boy stepped back in surprise, confusion and alarm spreading across his features. "Kidnapped?" He repeated." W-what are you..."_

_Stephon took a step forward, and Talon put his blade against Rachen's back to discourage any movement from the rather distressed black mage. Celeste almost smiled for a second, _Thank the gods. _She sighed mentally, and with that turned tail and ran._

She hadn't dared to look back, hadn't thought to feel guilty at the time, but her emotions had caught up to her eventually, and now, as reality came back into focus and she found herself again, right on the edge of the Great Cornerian forest, just a little ways in from the main town, she felt more guilty than ever for what she had done.

_What kind of monster am I? _She asked herself as she stared into her own mental abyss. _I've just used everyone I know for my well being, and I didn't think twice about it. _She shook her head, as she returned from her thoughts into the real world. _What's wrong with me?_

A faint, rustling noise interrupted Celeste's thoughts, and shaking herself of the stiff pains she'd developed from sitting in the same spot for so long and getting to her feet, she turned around to face the noise, though she was met with nothing but a wall of trees. She shivered. _It isn't exactly safe to be here either, is it? _She asked herself, taking a couple steps back towards the town. Another rustle met her this time, and she stiffened. _If it's only forest imps that's alright, right? _She told herself. _I mean they're nothing to be afraid of. _But as she thought this a new realization struck her. _But what if there are mages out here too?_With that thought the only thing in her mind again, she turned tail and ran: ran back to the village as fast as she could.

She bolted into town as quick as a flash, not really caring where she was going or why she was there. She would just let her feet carry her, and run wherever they took her. That was one thing that she knew couldn't fail her. She dodged through the back streets of the town, past the pub and the weapons shop, and down near the armor shop. Somehow the route seemed familiar, though why it was so familiar was beyond what she could comprehend at the time. Then all she could think about was running as fast as possible, though she was no longer sure exactly what she was running from. She turned a corner. _ I know I've been here. _She thought, looking around. _But why, why do I feel this way? _A rather tense, pained feeling had risen in her chest for reasons beyond her, and as she advanced onward, it only grew worse.

As she turned the next corner her questions were answered. In front of her opened the remains of a now deserted battleground. The putrid stench of dried blood and death filled her nostrils, and before her opened a scene, so horrible and sickening that Celeste almost felt dirty for beholding it. Along the ground bodies were strewn in piles, some were of soldiers and faces she neither recognized, nor particularly cared about, but most of the carnage was made up of people she knew, the girls, some young, some older, that had once made up her clan; her extended family. In truth there weren't all that many bodies to begin with, the fight hadn't been exactly epic and not many people had participated, but so many of the people who now lay lifeless had been people she'd known and cared about, some less than others, but none the less they had been important. Celeste felt her throat constricting as she stood there. Her limbs felt numb, and cold, and she felt almost as lifeless as the people who lay there.

_This was my fault. _She thought, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. _It's all my fault. Every one of these deaths is mine, my fault. _She closed her eyes, trying to force the tears from coming. _But it can't all be my fault. _She assured herself. _It was Stephon and Talon. Those two did this, they forced me to do this. It's their fault too, they have to share the blame. _She tried to force a smile, to force herself to believe her thoughts, but Janice's voice cut through in her mind, even now, with those same words. The words that she hated the most. _"Murderer. You're a murderer."_They danced through her thoughts like a native around a campfire, forever eating at her, chipping away at her for what she had done, until she was nothing. She knew that she'd been the one that brought all this upon her little clan of thieves, just because of her own arrogance and pride. She knew that it would be foolish to try to steal from the two armor clad men. She knew that when everything boiled down, she was the one who started the fight, by trying to pickpocket a noble.

Grief paralyzed her mind, it had her stunned, and made it hard to breathe and impossible to move. She looked about at all of the carnage, and as she did, she could see so many people she'd known, so many she'd fought along side of, slept with, talked to, so many that were now gone forever. But among all of the corpses that now lay along that street, there was one body that stood out. That one girl was sprawled out across the ground awkwardly, with her head cocked at a twisted impossible angle, so that her dark hair covered her face as she lay. Celeste's heart stopped when she laid eyes upon the mangled figure, her arms falling slack, and eyes widening in pain, in disbelief, and what seemed to be thousands of other unnameable emotions mixed in between. She opened her mouth to scream at the sight, her hands flying up to stifle what could have been an outcry, but no such sound could escape from her lips, instead, Celeste let out a mournful, forlorn wail. _Kate _The girl's name swirled into her head as she looked on at the corpse.

Celeste stumbled forwards, dropping to her knees beside the figure that had once been one of her closest companions. Her skin had turned for a smooth, rather dark color to a pale sickly white, and her body was limp, and seemed broken in several places that had turned a blotchy purple color. Her body seemed relatively whole, so that told Celeste that she hadn't been stabbed, just thrown about. She shook her head in disbelief as she stared down at the lifeless figure, not quite believing what she was seeing. _This can't be real. _She told herself. _This isn't real. This can't be Kate, she can't be dead. This can't be happing, it's too unreal, it has to be a dream. I'm dreaming; it must be a dream._ Celeste took Kate's limp, cold, clammy hand into hers clasping it between her two palms and clutching it to her chest, as if trying to feel some kind of life within the hollow shell that had once been one of her closest companions. Her hands could feel no life within the girl's empty frame; just flesh and bone and nothing more. _This has to be a dream. _She thought again, _I__t has to._ She looked over the girl's limp form frantically now, looking for some sign that the girl she'd once known was still here. A sign that this would all go away, and that soon Stephon and Talon wouldn't exist, and that she would soon be able to let her world return to what it had been before. She needed to know that her life would go on just as it always had. She needed to know that she would never have to deal with mages, or knights or anyone but the young women she knew now and would always know. She needed to know that none of this was real; that all of this was just a figment of her imagination, all just a dream.

She gently turned the girl's body so that she now lay on her back, and her hair no longer covered her face. Her arms were still in a rather awkward position, one clutched to her breast in defense, and one off to the side, lightly grasping the same pendant that she had stolen from the white mage only hours before. The girl's wide glassy eyes stared into Celeste's endlessly, vacant and hollow. Celeste could hardly bear to look at her, to see a girl she'd once known; who had once been so full of life and pleasant air, now reduced to an empty shell of what she once had been, now laying lifelessly upon the hard, cobblestone ground, never again to laugh or smile, never again to be that flirtatious devil of a girl who as always ready to spur a good laugh or raise an eyebrow, or both if she was lucky. The girl who Celeste had grown to love over the few years she'd been a thief was now gone forever, and her blood was on Celeste's hands. That point was made clear to her as soon as Celeste stared into the girl's eyes, and found nothing but an empty shell.

It was clear to her now that his was far from a dream, this was all reality, and she could never undo what she had done. She couldn't do anything to make things right, and she couldn't do anything to change what had happened. All she could seem to do was hold Kate's lifeless body to hers, in embrace that yearned for the past, and dreaded the future. She could feel blood pounding against her eardrums as rivulets of tears streamed down her face. _Why did this have to happen? _She asked herself._Why, why, why? Why did I have to be such a fool? So foolish, so vain, so greedy, so cowardly . It all ended up killing me in the end. _ She released her hold on Kate's body as she thought this. _Or at least it should have. _She looked at Kate's limp form once more, still cradled in her arms like a child._This should be me. I should be the dead one, not Kate. Kate didn't do anything wrong._

"'Oy what're you doin' there?" A strong masculine voice came from behind her, and Celeste wheeled around, her face flushing in fear,and her eyes fell upon a large, muscular, tanned man, standing over her with his arms crossed, looking down upon her with a rather blank expression on his sharp, full, face. His attire was that of a Cornerian knight, with a bronze half helmet atop his head, slightly askew, and a jacket of chain mail beneath hard leather armor adorned his muscular body, but his stance wasn't that of a soldier, and more that of an fairly drunken man, who had somehow wondered away from the pub.

For a second Celeste sat there mutely, her eyes wide and fearful. "I-I" She stuttered, her mouth suddenly dry. What could she say? She knew he knew what she was, a thief, one of the thieves that very man had most likely fought against only hours before. She knew he would be able to recognize her, and would be the one to impale her as soon as she answered.

After a second or two of silence, however, the man seemed to lose interest in her. She mentally sighed in relief. _Maybe he's more drunk than he looks. He doesn't recognize me. _She thought. _That's a blessing in itself._

The man strode over to the charm necklace that Kate's body had been clutching, and picked it up gingerly. "What've we got here now?" He asked aloud, a smile spreading over his muscular face.

"H-hey!" Celeste cried out, jumping to her feet in defense. She could barely stand to see her friend's last token, the last tribute to her career as a thief, swiped away just like her life had been, and taken by another man Corneria. "Put that back! That's...!" She stopped in mid sentence. She had been ready to say "That's Kate's necklace." but that wasn't exactly true. Kate had stolen the necklace, and if she had alluded to the fact that she knew the thieves, it would basically be telling the man flat out that she was a thief and needed to be slaughtered or put to death.

"Th-that's a family heirloom!" She cried at last. "I need it!"

"Oh." The man said simply, striding over to Celeste with a rather blank look upon his face. "Sorry 'bout that lil' missy.'Ere you go, take th' lil' thing an' be on your way now." A lopsided, rather lazy grin twisted on his lips as he placed the necklace in her hands, and he lumbered away, staggering slightly as he did.

Celeste blinked, dumbfounded by the guard's easygoing reaction. _That was luck. _She realized as she got to her feet, still shaking slightly from the fear that had enveloped her body for those brief moments, and still gripping the stolen charm necklace. _That was sheer dumb luck, that man should have killed me. _ Her heart was pounding a mile a minute now. _It still isn't safe here. There must be other Cornerians roaming the streets, and if someone who still has their wits about them finds me I'm done for. _She looked around frantically. _But where do I go? I can't escape them anywhere. They're everywhere in town, and there are mages in the Cornerian forest. I can't go back to the thieves after all I've caused. What can I do? Where do I go?_

She turned the charm necklace in her hand as she thought, glancing at it passively. It didn't look like any of the ones she'd seen in the magic shop, nor did it give off that hair raising, stimulating prickle of energy that usually coursed through the magic charm that was still secured in her back pocket. It held an energy, she could feel that easily enough, but it felt calming, and serene, and lacked any power that the other held. It lacked beads and any other kinds of decorations, and instead was merely adorned with an abnormally large topaz crystal that hung down in the middle of the chain. It looked utterly harmless and lacking any real power, almost useless, but still compelling.

Celeste turned the crystal over once more in her hand. _It's like a symbol really. _She thought. _Like a reminder of the life I have to leave behind now. I can never go back to our gang. I can never be a thief again, and this will always be there to remind me why I can never return. That way I can never go astray. _She looked back down the vacant path, towards the place where the magic shop lay in shadows. _Instead, I'll let it be so that my cowardice can never lead wrong again. That's what caused all of this: cowardice. If I hadn't run away from my problems maybe Kate wouldn't have been killed, and I would have taken the punishment I deserved._

She stood up straight now, tall and proud, though in her heart she was already shaking violently in fear, with tears welling up in her eyes as the cold wind blew past her. _Then I'll go back. _She concluded. _I'll have to go back to the magic shop, and meet my punishment head on. It's the least I can do for the girls that lost their lives because of me. _

She took a step forward, and began to sprint down the vacant passage, not once looking back at the now deserted battleground, still littered with bodies and riddled with death. _There's no turning back now. _Celeste told herself, as she turned a corner, and plunged into the consuming, endless darkness once more

_** Well another chapter written, and we have gotten... umm... not very far? This is another chapter split actually... Chapter 8 was supposed to be part of chapter seven, but it got too long, and was taking.. well.. you know...**_

_**I can promise more things happening in the next one... that's for sure. For whenever it ends up coming out.**_

_**Until then: Froliche Wienachten!**_

_**Surfingpichu over and out**_


	9. Chapter 8: Shattered Oaths

_**Alright people, Chapter 8 is finally up. Actually it didn't take as long to do it as I thought it would (or at least as long as it has in the past.) Meh... at any rate be happy because hey, Chapter 8 now exists! Yay! Anyway.. thanks much to Emperor Zoron, Toxo, Magic Noise (who is awesome andhas reviewed every chapter thus far) and Emote Control for reviewing. As usual you all get cookies for being awesome and reviewing. n.n **_

_**Also: Super Smash Bros: Brawl is out and it is the incarnation of awesome. I've finally found a character other than Pikachu that I can use well: Pit! Pit is awesome. Use him once and you'll see what I mean.**_

_**Anyways (just had to mention that nn) :**_

_**Emote Control: Yeah, the story really has strayed a little bit from the true FFI storyline. Eventually it does get back on track (kind of). I guess I got a little wrapped up in my own story for a while. We'll get back on track soon enough. (For the record, this is the last chapter that we'll have to spend in Corneria for a while, so next chapter we'll actually be seeing some progress. Yay progress!)**_

_**On a side note I probably should have put an AU tag in the description. It wasn't going to be AU at first, but that seems to be what's happening.**_

_**Magic Noise: Wow. Lots of main roles. Again congrads, good luck . nn I'm actually not doing a play this year, which explains why I'm still kind of living right now. And yeah, I'm actually not very fond of Celeste's character myself. It's not that I'm not happy with how she's developing as a character, I just don't like her as a whole.**_

_**Toxo: Yeah, I know I kinda dragged out the scene with Celeste and Kate. Reading it over after I posted it, I realized it was probably a little tedious to read, even though I thought it was fine as I was writing it. Admittedly, there are parts in this chapter that I think I dragged a little bit too, but meh.**_

_**Emperor Zoron: hehehe 8-Bit Theater is just awesome. I swear Brian Clevinger is a god when it comes to humor, and to story lines. (and it was really 8-Bit Theater that brought me into Final Fantasy, as backwards and weird as that sounds. Also: the combined effects of Black Mage Evilwizardington, and FFIX as a whole are probably what made me start loving black mages in te first place. Go figure eh?)**_

_**(Also: sorry about well.. not telling you I was going to post this chapter so soon, surskitty. I just kinda felt like posting,since I've been holding onto this chapter for a while now and I didn't want to pile even more work on you. ; ) )**_

_**Chapter 8: Shattered Oaths and Broken Feelings**_

Fire roared and ripped through the middle of the magic shop, dancing and jumping to an angry violent beat as black smoke billowed up from the orange licks of flame. An eerie orange light was cast upon the features of the four other men in the room, painting dark shadows into the crevices of their faces so that they appeared distorted and grotesque, like caricatures in a surreal looking picture. They were all focused on him, and him alone, and under their collective gazes Shane felt nearly paralyzed by their eyes. Maric and Rachen were the farthest away from him, and were watching him with hesitant, almost scared stances and expressions. Rachen's arms were wrapped around Maric for support, and he almost seemed to hold a jealously protective air as he held his nephew close to him. Maric on the other hand looked weak and pale, almost sickly, and for the first time since Shane had met him, he looked scared, terrified even.

The second farthest from him was the smaller, and less menacing of the guards. He was standing to the right aways, looking a little shaken, and almost looking a bit intimidated by Shane's sudden arrival. It wasn't without reason, after his chemical fire had nearly scorched the young man it seemed natural for him to be a little disoriented. Shane, however , payed little attention to the man, for his immediate problem lay with the larger, stockier man who had crossed the room as soon as Shane had made his appearance. For a second he'd held a bold, almost mocking air as he advanced on the black mage with his sword drawn and his head held high, and the light of the fire giving his sharp, muscular face and even more menacing look. As he grew nearer to Shane, however , he stopped momentarily, looking the boy over once more, and his eyes widened in shock, and near disbelief. He lowered his sword slowly, looking almost as if he'd seen a ghost. Shane regarded the man again, this time looking closer at his body, his structure, and stance. His appearance was familiar, very familiar, though he couldn't quite remember where he'd seen him before, or if he'd ever seen before at all. It could have been his imagination playing tricks on him, or part of the small chunk of memory he'd lost after loosing consciousness in the forest, but for now he did know two things: the man in front of him, both in memory and in the present was far from friendly, and he seemed to recognize Shane just as much as Shane recognized him.

For a second the two stood still and silent, and the swordsman's eyes pierced into his with fiery determination that seemed to grow with every second, and with each passing moment Shane felt more and more regretful that he'd launched himself into the middle of the battlefield without any preparation for what would happen after he made himself known. Eventually the swordsman took a step forwards, bringing his sword into an offensive position once more, as his arrogant, mighty air came back to him, now fueled by a spark of vigor. Shane took a step back as the swordsman advanced, feeling very belittled by the strong warrior, and not quite confident with his ability to fend him off.

" Well, you've been a slippery one, haven't you?" The swordsman remarked, his voice dangerously calm, trying to hide the overwhelming, burning hatred and frustration that seemed to be ready to burst forth. "Unfortunately it looks like your luck's run out."

Shane took another step back, gripping the lit candle in his hand as if it was his last lifeline. His other hand was dangling limply at his side; it wasn't numb anymore, which seemed to be a good sign, but whenever he attempted to move it a burning sensation shot up his arm. This would probably hinder his ability to fight even further and, in this situation, the loss of his arm could end up costing him his life as well.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" The man asked after a moment of silence, raising an eyebrow, and taking another step forward. A slight swagger accented his movements, and for a moment he seemed relaxed, and easy. In a moment however, his features changed entirely, as his expression went from a mock smile, to a fierce scowl, and his body prepared to strike. "Very well then."

His body contracted like a cat's, coiling up before lunging forward, all at once, his sword ready to strike. For a second, Shane stood still, planted to the spot by sheer terror, unable to keep his eyes off of the young swordsman. His breath caught, and his body froze up, his mind suddenly blank, and vacant. For a moment the world seemed to slow down, almost grinding to a halt, and Shane stood there, helplessly watching as the swordsman drew nearer. He knew the reality of the situation, and he could feel a voice of reason at the back of his mind begging him to do something, but his mind didn't seem to be quite able to process the situation at the moment, nor come up with the proper way to respond to it, so his body stayed still and frozen. At the last moment he felt his own body flinch away as his natural instinct took over, and he dove to the side, just as the sword came down, cutting through thin air.

Shane hit the floor with a thud, his heart pounding a mile a minute now, his face hot and hands shaking. His breath was coming fast now, and panic had seized hold of his mind and body. He could see the stocky swordsman coming towards him again. His mind was racing now._ I have to find something to defend myself with. _His gaze momentarily swept the floor in front of him, though it came up short. With the man approaching him faster and faster now, he knew his time for action was short, and the seconds were ticking away. Thinking fast he hurled the candle at the advancing swordsman. It's brass holder struck the man's arm, and a high pitched ringing noise resulted as the brazen object struck the man's armor. He flinched at the sudden, unexpected contact, giving Shane he moment to scramble to his feet; alive for the moment, but now utterly defenseless, as he had presently used up his only means of protecting himself.

_There has to be something here I can use. _He thought, his eyes sweeping the room once again. He could see, in one corner of the room, Rachen and Maric facing off against the other swordsman. Rachen was making use of a slew of magic spells and a protect spell appeared to have been cast upon both of the mages. Maric was also making due with one of Rachen's beaded charms, though his hands neither worked as quickly, nor as deftly as is uncle's._ That must mean that Maric doesn't have his sword._ Shane realized with a start. _Otherwise he would be using it. _His eyes swept the floor once more, and at last came to rest upon the discarded weapon, lying about a foot away from him. He dove for it, ignoring the jolt of pain that shot through his arm when his left hand collided with the hard, wooden floor.

He held the weapon up high in his right hand, though only managing to keep the blade aloft for a second before the tip clattered to the ground once more. The sword was surprisingly heavy, and far more cumbersome than it had originally looked. _Maric makes it look like it's so easy to use. _Shane thought, struggling to heft heavy weapon. He spun around to find himself face to face with the brown haired swordsman, who had again lunged at him, his eyes full of fire, and determination, and his mouth pulled into a sinister snarl. Shane swiftly swung the sword up,holding it in both hands now, to meet the oncoming blade, wincing at the smarting pain that jolted up his arm as soon as his wrist pivoted. The two swords met with a crash, and Shane was flung to the ground by the sheer force of the blow. The jolt from the sword flew through his body, shaking him all the way through to the bone. For a second he sat on the ground, disoriented from the blow, head spinning and his hands trembling. A slight pain had begun to develop in his chest, an d his left wrist had grown very numb again, and this time, he was sure it wasn't from healing magic. _Maybe I'm a little worse off than I thought. _He thought. _I guess Maric healed a lot more than I thought he did. Now that the numbing effects are wearing off, I might be in trouble. _Smoke from the fire was filling the magic shop a little more rapidly now and it was difficult to see the swordsman as he lunged forward, through a thin curtain of smoke. Maric and Rachen were nowhere to be seen through the misty veil, and Shane was sure that it was getting hotter in the room as the seconds passed.

The swordsman's blade came down at him again, and Shane attempted to parry again, but the blade moved slow. The blade sunk through the air, missing Shane's neck by about an inch, but managing to graze his left shoulder. He gave a slight outcry, clutching the newly opened wound through the two layers of cloak that he was clad in. The wound smarted, and stung at the touch of his bare hand, and his eyes squeezed shut from the pain. He lowered Maric's blade slowly as the brown haired swordsman's shaky distorted shadow advanced upon him, and through the veil of smoke Shane could see his foe's jagged muscular face, smirking down at him with bright eyes, full of a kind of malevolent humor. He lunged, his sword flying through the air, aimed to strike the black mage. For a second, Shane looked up, his eyes focusing in on the blade, and again he raised his blade in an attempt to parry, but this time the knight's blade pitched to the right, and struck him on the hand. Shane pulled his hand back, uttering a small cry at the sudden burning pain that irrupted when the man's blade bit into his flesh. His left hand closed around his newly injured right hand, fingering the thick gash, biting his lip to try to stop himself from crying out any more. The smoke was stinging his eyes now, making it mildly difficult for him to catch his breath, and it had almost entirely swallowed up his foe in it's translucent curtain. Maric's blade slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor beside him, and he watched helplessly as the swordsman's bade flew at him once more. _Here it comes. _He thought, his eyes widening, fixed on the blade, unable to avert their gaze from the glinting weapon as it sail down through the air. _I guess my luck's finally run out. I've gotten_ _away with too much thus far, it's been too good to be true. _He braced himself for the end, only half believing that it would come, and closed his eyes, waiting for the blade to pierce his flesh.

The end never came, and for what seemed like hours he waited there with his eyes closed, waiting for the piercing stab of pain to fly through his being and strike him down, taking away his breath, and relieving him of all his strength and fight, but it never came to him. He cautiously opened an eye to find the brown haired man standing above him, looking down on his cowering bent figure the way a warg looks at it's helpless prey, pleased with himself, and invigorated from the chase, with his sword still ready to strike at any moment. He looked very composed, and not tired at all; his breath was steady and even, and his stance told Shane that he was ready for more. Shane on the other hand was panting heavily now, his body aching from the ordeals of the past day, and from the brief chase that had just ensued. He'd seen the man like this before; he knew he had. That haughty stance, full of might and power, standing above another mage in a similar position to his own. He could almost remember it now.

"So, you're really the mage that got away." The man said in an amused tone. "The little one that managed to escape. I suppose you could say that by killing you I'm doing old Clayton a favor."

Shane's eyes widened at his statement. _Clayton?_ He repeated the name in his mind. _That was our leader's name; Clayton Vartle. But he couldn't be talking about our Clayton. How could he know about him?_

"H-how do you know him?" Shane demanded hoarsely, his voice shaking. "Who.. who are you? How do you know who I am?"

"Take a guess." The man challenged him carelessly. It was as if he was playing a game now; his eyes shining with invigoration, and his mouth pulled into a wry, but content smile.

"Answer me!" Shane demanded, raising his voice now. His shrill cry prompted a small chuckle from the swordsman's end.

"I have no reason to tell you, as I'm the one who can kill you if I see fit." The man replied, though his voice didn't sound threatening; it had retained it's calm, careless, almost amused tone from before. " You're in no position to be questioning me, so guess."

Shane gritted his teeth, frustration welling up within him. _He doesn't take me seriously. _He thought. _ Well of course not, why would he? No-one else ever did. _He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down a bit and let his rational mind take over. _He knows Clayton. _He confirmed in his mind. _And I know him. I've seen him before, with another mage; one of my teammates. Was that Clayton? _The image flashed into his mind again. The image of the brown haired swordsman, holding his sword to the neck of a rather terrified looking black mage. The swordsman was saying something, but unlike now, his voice was full of rage and his eyes full of fury. Presently he could nearly see the moment playing before his eyes.

"_Tell me!" He'd demanded, shaking Clayton violently as he spoke. "Tell me who else was involved! I know that you know! Don't think that I don't! Don't try to save their necks, I'll just kill the lot of you if.."_

_Shane had been watching and listening to them from within the cover of the brush, just beyond the clearing that the two men were standing in. It was spring then, but still cold out, and a harsh, cool wind had passed through the branches of the trees that moment, and sent a shiver down Shane's spine. He'd given an involuntary shudder, and nearly lost his balance from his crouching position. His hand had shot out to catch himself on something, but it grappled the air, and he faltered slightly, causing the bush he was hidden behind to shake, and directing the attention of the two men towards him._

_The swordsman stopped talking, his eyes widening with almost a look of horror as his eyes met that of the little black mage. Shane looked from him to Clayton several times, unable to process, at that moment, what he'd just witnessed. The swordsman tensed, his eyes widened with a look of almost horror in them, and he shoved Clayton away with an unnecessary amount of force, before turning tail and dashing out of the clearing._

_Clayton stood there for a moment, watching as the man disappeared from view, and then eying his path carefully, as if he could reappear at any moment. After a second he turned to Shane, his eyes holding a tense, grave expression that seemed almost unfitting for their leader, who was usually calm, collected, and brave._

"_You heard nothing, Tellerman." He said after a second, his yellow piercing eyes boring into his with an intense kind of urgency. "You won't speak of this again, you saw nothing and you heard nothing."_

_Shane nodded, his voice catching in his throat. He knew that was all he could do: keep silent. Their group was effective and orderly for now, but Shane knew that if any sign of weakness ever was seen in their fearless leader, the other mages would begin to doubt his abilities. If that happened there was a good chance that Clayton would be relieved of his duties as leader, by what ever means necessary. Clayton was definitely a very good leader, and he knew that any other mage out in charge might bring their organization to it's doom, something he wasn't about to let happen._

_He nodded, and Clayton turned back to the direction of their campsite. His eyes looking far away, and he looked a little dazed to say the least. _

"_Let's get going, Tellerman." He said , his voice was calm again now, and seemed slightly relieved, though still a bit tense. "It's getting late."_

That had been the end of the entire ordeal. Never again would Shane mention it, and he would try his best not to think about it, just as Clayton had ordered, but now the information was vital. He had to figure out who this swordsman was, why he was after him, and what this could mean for the others, those who used to be his allies.

_It looked like he knew what we'd been doing. _Shane thought. _He knew Clayton's name, so this obviously wasn't just a one time situation. He's been watching us for quite some time. If that's the case then there's a chance that this is his job, to spy on us and monitor us, maybe planning to eventually strike back against us once he and the rest of the Cornerians that are against us figure out how to go about an attack. Even so that brings up a few more questions: Why did he reveal himself to Clayton? What did Clayton know that he didn't, and why did he need to know it? And I still don't know how he figured out who I am so quickly, or why he knows who I am in the first place. None of this makes sense._

Shane opened his eyes once more, looking straight at the swordsman, who was still watching him expectantly.

"I know who you are." Shane announced finally, catching the man's attention again. "You're a spy for the Cornerian government, aren't you?"

The young man's face contorted in amusement, his eyes widening with mirth. "'Might be." He replied. "Not a bad guess at all." He smirked, drawing ever closer to the black mage, his sword drawing dangerously close to Shane's neck. "Now, there's no more time for fooling around, I'm afraid, so I'll get to the point. How many others are there with you?"

"What?" Shane asked, confused. "What do you mean, 'others'?"

"Don't play around with me." The swordsman growled, for a second loosing his composure. "I'll ask again: How many other mages are there with you here? Are they hiding here, or is there another base?"

"Base?" Shane repeated, shaking his head. "What kind of base? What do you mean? There aren't any other mages here. Just me, and Maric, and..."

"Liar!" In one swift movement Shane was yanked up from the ground and shoved against one of the shop's walls, with the adolescent swordsman hold him against the wall with one arm, the other brandishing his broadsword. His face was now contorted with a mixture of anger and frustration, teeth gritted and eyes narrow and full of fury. After his first outburst pierced the air of the magic shop, his voice came down low, bursting with anger. "I've had enough of this from all of you." He snarled in a vicious , throaty voice. "Every time I ask a simple question, I always get the same response. From all of you! You're all the same!" He shook his head, exhaling a shaky, fury filled breath. "So now, you're going to tell me what's going on here. Why did you run away? What are you planning on doing? What is your filthy leader trying to do now?"

"I.. I-I.." Shane stuttered in response. His throat had suddenly closed up from the pressure of the situation ,and suddenly the black mage found himself unable to communicate. "I d-don't know." He finally managed to choke out in response. The smoke from the fire was making him light headed now, and it was hard to think straight, or keep concentrated long enough to come up with a story that would satisfy the enraged knight.

His response prompted another roar of frustration from the swordsman. He dropped his weapon now, and with his free hand struck the mage across the face, before momentarily seizing him by the collar and thrusting him against the wall once more. "You think I won't kill you, mage?" The swordsman asked, his eyes wild and full of rage. "You have no idea how much I want to see you dead. On the ground, gutted, bleeding, and dead like all of your kind should have been long ago. You all deserve it! You deserve it!"

Shane's head was swimming now. The young man's face was now painfully close to his, his expression was wild and savage, and he was nearly shaking from frustration and anger. Shane couldn't think now; couldn't act, he was mentally and physically paralyzed. "P-please." He pleaded, before he could stop himself. "Please stop. L-let me go." Tears were streaming down his face now, mingling with the beads of sweat that dotted his cheeks. He was terrified, completely and utterly terrified; he was afraid for his life alone, for nothing else, and he was sure that at this point he would leave both Maric and Rachen behind just for the chance to get away. His mind had frozen up, and all thought processes had stopped now. Now all he could think of was getting away, somehow.

"Let you go?" The young man echoed him, his mouth suddenly twisting into a wry, malevolent smile. He gave a dry laugh. "_Let you go? _You think I would let you go now? After all the trouble you've caused me? Not now, not after I've come this far. I'll let you go when I have your blood on my hands. I'll let you go when you aren't a problem anymore." The young man was launching into a rant again. His eyes growing even wider, and shining with a kind of blood thirsty excitement, mixed with unquenchable rage.

In body he found himself immobile. He was fixed in place, unable to wrench his eyes away from the swordsman's gaze. His mind felt frozen as well, as if his entire mind had been shut off momentarily, and he was left unable to do anything. The swordsman was still speaking, but he could no longer comprehend his words. Beneath the sound of the man's voice, he could also hear his own voice, mumbling quietly in a rhythmic, steady monotone that was nearly inaudible beneath the roar of the fire. A spell incantation was on his lips; in his subconscious mind he'd started it, and had become too pulled in by the chant to stop it now. He didn't recognize the incantation at all: It wasn't the familiar sleep spell that he'd grown so accustomed to saying. Instead this one held much more intensity, the ancient words that he spoke seemed to hold more dignity, and a far stronger meaning. This spell was meant to kill, he could feel it. All at once a kind of unadulterated hatred sprang up within his body and seized his mind. _I want him dead. _He thought, his fear leaving him all at once, replaced by utmost loathing. _I want him to die. I want him dead. _His heart was pounding now, his good hand balling into a fist at his side. Steadily he began to chant faster, raising the speed of the words so that phrases began to blend together._ He should be dead. _Another thought circled into his mind. _He deserves to die, he should be dead. People like this don't deserve to live. _He could feel an intoxicating kind of power brimming up within his being, nearly tangible, kindled with unspoken, burning rage. It was almost scary, as if he was loosing control of his emotions, and any rational thought he might have been able to grasp was now gone. His vision was tunneling now, and the spell he was chanting was nearing it's end. All at once there was another short burst of power, and Shane felt his eyes widening. His good hand shot up, and grappled at the swordsman's wrist, and the spell trigger was uttered. "_Thunder!_"

The young man eyes widened, and he flinched back, though still maintaining a firm grasp on Shane's body. For a second there was a flash, and a couple of bolts of electricity flew from the Black mage's hands, a bright light cutting through the swirling black smoke, and all at once it died. All at once the light began to fade, and the bolts of electricity stopped dancing in the air. The remaining bolts of lightning spluttered and died, and the light blinked out. A heavy silence lingered between the two young men, and for a second the swordsman stood, his eyes still wide, and his hands still planted on Shane's shoulders. Shane felt his heart sinking into his stomach, as a feeling of defeat swept over him. _It didn't work. _He thought, shaking his head, his body tensing. _ It didn't work. Why didn't it work? What am I doing wrong now? I had everything right. I'm trying really hard, what am I doing wrong?Oh.. Now I'm really in trouble. _

For a second more the silence lingered, as the swordsman's expression changed. Slowly his face contorted into a wavering smile, and he spluttered slightly with mirth before laughter burst fourth: dry, humorless laughter that was chilling enough to break even the strongest man.

"I get it now." The swordsman announced, his grip on the black mage's shoulders tightening painfully. "You think this is a joke, don't you. You don't think I'd actually kill you. You think really need you, don't you." He gave another chuckle, before whirling the Shane around so that his back now faced the center of the magic shop. He felt himself being lifted from his feet, and rising to eye hight with the angry young man. "You don't think I have any other way of getting this information. Of course not, I need you right? Think that all you want, but trust me, you're of far more use to me dead than alive. I'm practically giving you a gift right now. A chance to prove your worth to me." The man walked forward a couple of steps, and then twirled him around again, so that he came face to face with a huge roaring fire. Flames licked up, coming dangerously close to his face and he could feel the horrible heat emanating from the body of fire against his cheeks, and the smoke burning in his eyes.

"So now you will tell me, won't you?" The swordsman asked. Shane felt the icy cold sting of steel against his flesh as he uttered these words. "I'll give you ten seconds to sort out your thoughts, and then, you'll tell me exactly what Clayton is planning. What does he want you to do? Why aren't you still with the rest of your kind?"

"I-I" Shane began to stutter in reply, his voice shaking. "H-he.. d-didn't..."

As he spoke the swordsman for a moment released his grip on the black mage's shoulders For a second, the falling sensation took over Shane, and he let out a sharp cry, closing his eyes, expecting to plummet head first into the roaring flames. All at once the hands caught his collar once more, and he hung in mid air once more. "Ten seconds." The swordsman's rough, anger filled voice whispered into his ear. Shane whimpered, looking with terror filled eyes back down at the awful fire below.

Suddenly a cry came from the other corner of the magic shop, and Shane felt a heavy push send both him and the swordsman hurtling to the ground. Immediately the black mage scrambled back to his feet. His breath came in with a quick gasp, and thick smoke filled his lungs. He spluttered slightly, choking on the heavy air for a second, slightly surprised by how hard it was becoming to breathe.

"Talon! We have to get out of here!" A rather unfamiliar voice called from the other end of the magic shop. Presumably it was the other swordsman calling to his larger companion.

The young man grunted, and getting back to his feet he bolted towards the door, and was swallowed by the abyss of smoke. The resounding bang of the door slamming shut echoed through the shop, and all at once the shop was quiet again save for the ever present roar of the fire.

Shane turned now in the direction of the figure who had rammed into the young man who was apparently named Talon. The figure stood before him with a slightly hesitant stance, though only his outline could be seen from behind the curtain of smoke. The form was far too slender to be Rachen, and didn't look like Maric at all. He stared for a good while at the stranger, but he made no move until a familiar voice rang out from behind him.

"Shane! Are you alright? Shane?" Maric's voice sounded urgent and tense, and Shane could hear his rapid footsteps coming up from behind him.

"Y-.. I'm here, Maric," He replied turning around. "I'm okay."

"It didn't sound like it." Maric commented. "With the way you were screaming, I thought he'd run you through or some..." He paused suddenly, as his warped imprint became visable in the ever growing cloud of smoke. "Who's there?"

Shane looked back to the second figure in the room, who had taken a step back when noticed by Maric. Presently Shane found himself choking on the hot, heavy air once more.

"W-what do you make of it?" The figure asked in a clear, feminine voice. Shane felt his heart jump into his throat. _It's her! _He realized. _It's the girl who turned us in._

"You?" Maric exclaimed, apparently coming to the same conclusion that Shane did. "What are _you _doing back here?"

There was a slight pause before the girl began again. "What does it matter?" She shot back finally. "I just saved your friend's life!"

"You wouldn't have had to if..." Maric began, his tone at first still accusing, but he trailed off as he slowly came to comprehend the girl's words. "Wait.. what?"

"One of those nobles was just about to hurl this kid here into the fire." The girl elaborated. "I pushed him out of the way... Saved his life."

"But how did... why did you...?" Maric began again before breaking off into a series of coughs. Apparently Maric was having trouble with the heaviness of the air as well.

"Maric! Could you get over here and help me?" Rachen's disembodied voice came from behind the curtain of smoke.

"With what?" Maric called back through coughs.

"There's a bit of a... a problem with the door." Rachen replied in a rather hesitant voice.

"A problem with..." Maric echoed quitely, seeming almost to be in awe at how utterly ridiculous his uncle was sounding at this moment. Shane, shook his head, wondering vaguely if Rachen really was all there. "Never mind, let me see."

In an instant Maric's warped imprint in the smoke filled room disappeared, and footsteps could be heard slowly drawing away from him.

Shane turned a wary eye on the new figure in the room, inching slowly away from her for fear that moving too fast would make her uneasy. "Who are you?" He asked cautiously, silently pleading for Maric to return from beyond the smokescreen.

"Why do _you _want to know?" The girl asked in reply. Her tone was course, and accusing, and slightly offended.

"I..." Shane began once again, slightly shaken by how hostile an answer he'd gotten from such a simple question. " I'm sorry. I guess I don't need to know really it's just..." Another smoke induced coughing fit cut him off abruptly, and he faltered slightly as he struggled to rid himself of the contaminated air. "I just thought" He continued momentarily. "... since you did save me from that man..."

He took a step forward, and she took a step back. His heart gave a painful flutter. _Is she really that afraid of me? _He wondered. "You don't have to be afraid, you know." He went on. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You know, _somehow _ thats hard to believe." The girl replied, icy sarcasm completely shattering any attempts of friendliness that Shane had made.

"I promise." Shane went on. "Really I do.. I.."

"You promise you won't hurt me _after _you kidnap me and almost kill me." The girl snarled.

"We didn't kidnap you." The black mage went on, suddenly feeling slightly aggravated with the girl's failure to co-operate. " We just thought... well.. I thought anyway, since you'd broken your arm when we bumped into you that we should heal it, but we couldn't loose time because the guards were already after us and... so..."

"Don't waste your time Shane." Maric's voice came at last from behind the cloud of fumes. "We have a bigger problem right now. Is your thunder spell any good? I heard you using one before."

Shane spun around to face Maric, who was now quite visible, and looking rather panicked. He shook his head. "It didn't work that time. I'm not sure if I have a chance now; I'm pretty sure my mana's gone."

Maric cursed under his breath, looking back in the direction of the front of the magic shop.

"What's going on anyway?" Shane inquired, catching Maric's attention again.

"Oh, other than the shop basically being ready to collapse into itself, and the fact that we probably have less than ten minutes' worth of breathable air left in this god forsaken place?" Maric asked, suddenly looking wild with anxiety and frustration. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

With those words Shane felt himself being yanked over into the approximate middle of the magic shop, in front of the door that served formerly as the only way out of the magic shop. Two fire clad boards that came presumably from the rafters in the ceiling of the old building were now positioned in front of the door, barring them from the outside world. The gravity of the situation only now hit the little black mage. There were no windows or doors aside from the one in the front, and the curtain that led to the back room was most likely the first thing to catch the flame. Shane looked about at the rest of the shop now, only to realize that it had ceased to be a shop at all and was now nothing more than a prison of fire. The ancient texts that had once lined the walls were now nothing more than piles of ashes and small orange infernos that lit the walls with a bright orange glow. The rafters had taken light and more smoke was filtering down from above, along with half burned chunks of wood. Te situation looked bleak, and with the door barred, there was no way out of the firey living hell that the magic shop had become.

"What do we do?" Shane asked, his pleading gaze fixing on Maric. "There has to be something we can do. Maric, what can we..."

"I don't know Shane..." Maric cut him off. "If I did, we'd be out of here already. I still think we should just douse the fire with a blizzard spell. I know you have ice elemental charms Rachen, I've seen you use them."

"And what, freeze the door shut?" Rachen asked. "Maric, use your head for once we can't..."

"You could just melt the ice afterwards." Maric defended his idea quietly.

"And how long would that take if we wanted to do it without rekindling the fire?" Rachen challenged him. " Fire magic isn't supposed to be precise. It'd take too long to concentrate the flame, and even then, we'd still have to drag the debris out of the way."

"Well then what do you propose we do?" Maric asked in an exasperated tone.

"I already know what we should do." Rachen explained. " I just don't have the resources to actually do it. What we _should _do is just cast a good Thundara spell on the door and blast it open, but..."

Shane stood in between the two mages, watching them argue back and fourth. _It's good to speculate, but this isn't getting us anywhere. _ Shane thought dismally. _We need to take action somehow, we don't have a lot of time to act at all. _He glanced at the barricaded door once more. _If my father was here, this wouldn't be a problem._

All at once a sharp jerk from the back of his collar sent the black mage flying backwards where he landed on the floor with a small thud. Immediately after, a large pile of flaming debris fell from the rafters a couple inches in front of him.

"Watch yourself will you?" The traitor girl's voice came from behind him. Shane looked up, craning his head so that he could see her entire smoke veiled body standing above him. "I can't keep saving you like this you know."

He looked at the smoldering pile of rubble before him, and then back at the girl. _What does she want? _Shane wondered vaguely, righting himself again. _If she hates us so much, why does she keep helping me?_

"Shane!" Maric's fantic voice came from beyond the ever thickening curtain of soot and ash. "Shane are you alright?"

"He's fine." The girl called back confidently. "Took a little fall but he's fine."

"What did you do to him?" Maric asked in an accusative tone. "Why are you still here?"

"I'm fine Maric." Shane called into the vacant abyss where he was convinced Maric was standing, barely able to believe it himself.

"What are you here for?" Maric asked, this time failing to falter from his former accusing tone. "Why did you come back here?"

"I'm trying to help you." The girl explained, drawing out her words as if she were talking to a child. "I got rid of those nobles for you, and saved that little mage kid's life twice. And for the record, we're all trapped in here anyway. My situation isn't too much different from your's right now."

"But why? Why take the time to stay back and help us?" Maric asked icily. "We don't have feelings, remember? We're just mindless killing machines that sustain ourselves by taking the lives others. Remember that?" A bit of tainted air caught up with the red mage, and a second later he was sent into a fit of coughs, rendered quite unable to catch his breath.

"Look do you want my help or not?" The girl asked, seeming annoyed by Maric's cold attitude.

"You don't have much of a choice." Rachen pointed out, his figure presently appearing out of the sooty cloud. "You need to get out of here just as much as we do."

" But h-how?" Maric asked, finally managing to recover his breath. "She doesn't know magic, how could she possibly help...?" Maric was cut off again by the smoke, doubling over now as he attempted to regain his breath.

Shane slowly felt himself succumbing aswell, a rather racking coughing fit seizing hold of him. He fell to his knees, holding a his chest, and trying to catch his breath again. The smoke danced and swirled about him like a prison, isolating him from Maric and Rachen. He was on the ground now, where the heat wasn't as horrible, and the air was more breathable, and was relieved to find fresh air again if only for a few seconds. He didn't dare try to stand again, knowing that above the cloud of smoke was getting only thicker. He listened around now, only to realize that all semblance of conversation had stopped. He listened intently for a couple of seconds, but was met with only the roar of the fire around him. _What happened? _The black mage wondered, looking about. He couldn't see any of the other people who were in the shop. Not Maric, or Rachen, not even the girl.

"We have to get out of here." A rather winded sounding Maric said finally from beyond the smoke's reach. "We have to... now."

"We have to find that charm." Rachen announced. "We've waisted enough time talking already, we don't have very much left."

"A... A charm?" The traitor girl gasped, her voice sounding slightly airy. "What kind of charm?"

Shane lifted his head now, which strangely enough had become very heavy feeling, and awkward. He got to his hands and knees, trying to savor the semi-clean air that was at the bottom of the magic shop.

"It looks like..."Rachen began to explain in a rather weak sounding voice, but a coughing fit caught him again. "It... it looks..."

"This?" The girl asked, apparently brandishing some sort of item, hopefully the charm. Curiosity struck Shane, and he shakily got to his feet, inching slowly towards the sound of human voices.

"W-wait a minute that... that's..." Maric's awestruck voice piqued Shane's curiosity. "Isn't that."

Maric never managed to express what he was seeing vocally, but when Shane got past the smokescreen there was no need to say anything. In front of them, the girl was holding two pendants. One was obviously a magical charm, with a dragon's tooth hanging from the middle. The other was of far more brilliance and it illuminated the smoke surrounding the area almost as much as Shane's failed thunder spell. For a second, the four captives that were trapped within the confines of the fire's might forgot the billowing flames about them, and the scalding heat and strangling smoke was brushed away by the beauty and brilliance of a single topaz crystal that game off a dim, tranquil light of it's own, brimming with a comforting, dormant, but intense power that couldn't be grasped by mortal men.

"Where did you... f-find..." Maric just barely managed to choke out the semblance of a sentence as reality came flooding back, just as harsh and cruel as ever.

"I found..." The girl stopped abruptly in mid sentence as if to rethink her explanation. "It.. It's a family heirloom."

"The third Warrior of Light." Maric breathed, a smile crossing his face. He turned to Rachen. "I told you, Rachen! The time must be upon us, one other might have been a coincidence, but two..."

"Warriors of..." The girl began to form a question, but was cut off by Rachen.

"Maric we have bigger problems right now!" Rachen cried a vaguely aggravated tone lingering in his voice. He turned now to the girl. "You, what's that other charm you have there?"

The girl held the other pendant up, choking on some of the sooty air as she did. Rachen snatched the charm away from her immediately, his eyes wide suddenly.

"Where did you find this?" Rachen demanded wildly. "I suppose this is a family heirloom too, eh? A family heirloom that happens to also be one of my yellow dragon's fangs."

"I found it..." The girl managed to explain. "Over there." She indicated a spot somewhere in the shop that was hidden behind the cloud of smoke.

The answer seemed acceptable enough to Rachen, though in this situation, Shane was sure any explanation would be acceptable to Rachen. The old man smiled almost visibly beneath the shadow of his hat.

"This might do the trick." Rachen mumbled, twirling the charm around one of his fingers. "Yes, this'll do nicely. Alright you two.. er.. three, stand back, we're getting out of here."

There was a collective sigh of relief between the three youths. Shane nearly smiled, the prospect of getting out of the fiery prison was comforting to say the least, but a foreboding feeling filled him. _What if something goes wrong? Rachen's a good Mage, thats to say the least, but what if he misfires. What if The door doesn't break from the impact and we all end up suffocating in here, or getting burned alive, or both. _

"Alright Shane." A relieved sounding Maric addressed him, though his expression turned to one of slight worry when he laid eyes of him " Hey are you feeling okay?"

Shane nodded weakly, though just the contrary was true. Now more than ever, the dizzying feeling of the smoke and heat was numbing his mind and body. He faltered slightly on his feet. _Maybe it would be alright if I just sat down for a while. _ He thought, letting himself stoop down and rest upon the hard wooden floor. _We'll be free soon anyway. _As he did a new wave of exhaustion hit him. The smoky cloud engulfed him, and suddenly he was floating, and the overwhelming heat suddenly disappeared again. His eyelids suddenly felt heavy, like lead, and he felt as if he could fall asleep at any second now. _It couldn't hurt to rest a little bit, could it. _

"Shane! What's wrong? Shane ge.. get up!" Maric cried again, though his breath was lost momentarily to the smoke afterwards. After he recovered he called again. "Shane!"

In his mind, Shane wasted to reply. In his mind he was calling back. "_I'm alright Maric, just a little tired , that's all." _But his lips wouldn't move. Neither would his body. The wooden floor felt cool against his sweating, overheated body, and the two robes he wore only made the heat situation worse. His hat had been pushed to an angle, so that his cheek lay flat against the cool wood. It felt soothing to the touch, and relaxing almost, to escape the horrible heat.

"Shane!" Maric's voice could still be heard from behind the smoke cloud, but now it was a bit quieter. "Shane you have to stop this right now!"

From beyond the smokescreen an earsplitting bang was heard, just as the word "_Thunder_" was uttered. The smoke shifted forwards a bit, stirring about him, and suddenly beginning to move faster as if being sucked out by an invisible force.

"Shane!" Maric's voice sounded frantic now. Scared and frantic, just like the time when the traitor girl held him at knife point. Then Shane had been just as frantic, and just as scared, but now, Shane knew there was nothing to fear.

_It's going to be fine Maric. _Shane silently assured him. _We're free, the door's open. _He closed his eyes, satisfied with this prospect. He noticed now how faint his breath sounded against the other noises in the magic shop, as if it was barely coming at all, and as if he could stop all at once, and never notice. _Is that supposed to happen when you sleep? _The black mage half wondered. _I never really noticed before. _In fact the only time he could remember his breath coming so softly, was when he was dieing, but then it had been difficult to breathe; a challenge. It was hard then, very hard, the only thing he could possibly concentrate on was that one vital action. He'd called out too or rather, he'd tried to call out. He'd tried many times then, but succeeded only twice. Then he stopped trying, he let his breath come naturally then, or at least try to come naturally, but it stopped too, and for a painful second he froze completely, his eyes growing wide and mind growing faint. The next thing he knew outside the sun was high in the sky, his wounds were healed almost completely and he was in the middle of a stranger's room. 

He smiled. He had been then scared too, terrified even, terrified of dying, but Maric had saved him. _I'll always be safe when Maric's around. _He concluded. _Always be safe. Always. _

A sharp tug suddenly yanked him to his feet, and vaguely, he realized that it was still nearly impossible to breathe, and that for a second, he had stopped. A strong arm was latched around his weak body now, dragging his forward towards a light that was penetrating the dark smoky abyss. "Shane, you're going to be the death of me." Maric's voice mumbled beside him. All at once they burst from the magic shop, leaving the burning shop behind, and bursting into the fresh air. The next thing they knew the two were on the ground, fresh air upon their faces and the cool shadow that surrounded the magic shop helped to sooth their aching, overheated bodies. Shane was coughing soot and ash, taking in the fresh air about them in great gulps, happy to finally be free. The tired feeling was leaving him now, and he felt fairly alert now, and awakened. He realized only a second later that something was wrong with the scene before him.

The first was obvious, Rachen and the girl were nowhere to be seen. Shane couldn't account for the girl's actions, but he knew Rachen would never leave Maric behind anywhere, especially in immediate danger. The second thing was a little less obvious, but he knew he should have picked up on it as soon as he saw the light filtering in from the doorway. When they entered the magic shop, there was no friendly sunlight to follow them into it's doors, that was why the establishment had no windows and was instead dimly lit with candles, so why was there a light filtering in through the door now?

His questions were answered as soon as he raised his head to look at his surroundings. Maric was now very still and silent at his side, looking up at the throng of Cornerian solders that were positioned around the magic shop, many holding torches that created a bright, eerie glow and penetrated the dark concealing shadow. A semi circle had formed around the magic shop, and each man held their distance, with a spear held at arm's length pointed at the two young mages. Above them the two noble blooded knights were standing, each looking quite satisfied, and accomplished. To the side, Rachen and the girl were both bound and shackled, being held a few feet away from them with swords to their necks. Shane looked up in disbelief at the men, his eyes wide and his body frozen, and in his mind, he knew they had won.

It was a 'victory to remember', as Stephon was sure his father would put it. A triumph for mortal men, when the masters of elements who could easily cause the destruction on their kingdom were finally brought to justice. In the end all it had come down to was convincing Talon that reinforcements would be needed, a difficult job to say the least, but at last the three mages were caught and the thief girl to boot. He gave a haughty laugh, as accomplishment and triumph filled him, the sweet taste of victory suddenly present and strong. He had won, or rather, he and Talon had won, and all would be right again.

_It was a stroke of pure luck that they stayed in there so long. _Stephon mused. _Talon guarded the door when I left to find our men, he seemed rather eager to do so too, odd for him, and he seemed almost disappointed when I came back before anything interesting happened. As it turned out, we waited for a a good couple of minutes longer before the first two came out, and a minute longer for the younger mages._

Stephon looked at the two young mages now, a look of mixed surprise and defeat mixed on their faces. He smiled. _They never even saw it coming._

To Stephon's surprise, the two remained silent for a good long while, even as the initial shock wore away. A twinge of guilt pricked at Stephon now. _This was for the better right? _He felt his smile fading, and the uplifting feeling that victory brought, was tainted by a twinge of doubt. _I have to wonder, are these mages any different than all the rest? _The didn't look any different. Stephon had come to expect a murderer's gaze from any of the three mage, almost hoping to see that insane, psychopathic spark in the eyes that he associated with mages so often, but instead, all he found in their eyes was fear. It may have been the artificial light of the several dozen torches that played off their soot covered faces in a different way, that now made the two look young and innocent, and it may have been the fact that the battle was over, and the two mages could no longer be looked on as enemies now, and now only as prisoners. It may have been his imagination, and it may just have been a subtle difference in their current situation that made him feel pity on them, but he suddenly felt that the three mages he had caught were just as innocent as the others.

"Let's finish up this Job Steph." Talon suggested suddenly, drawing his sword with a satisfied smile on his face. He looked at the younger black mage almost exclusively, his smile broadening suddenly, as if recalling a cruel joke.

The black mage's eyes widened, and he stumbled to his feet and stepped backwards only for another group of soldiers to file in behind him, cutting off his escape. They forced the child's hands behind his back, binding them with shackles. Talon strode casually to the black mage, placing his sword beneath his chin and laughing cruelly. Stephon felt a feeling of disgust rising his his stomach as he watched his brother. It was the mere fact that he was enjoying something like this, to enjoy taking someone's life, it was cruel and unnerving to watch.

"No!" The mage's rather human looking companion got to his feet with a start, only to be grabbed from behind and shackled. "Don't hurt him! Please!" The young man cried, struggling feebly against his captors.

He looked at the young man intently, remembering his face far better than any of the others'. _I tried to kill him. _He realized, his heart suddenly sinking. _I... I enjoyed trying to kill him. _He remembered vividly the brief struggle he'd had against him, how easily he'd brought him down, and how easily he'd decided on how to kill him. The mage's bandanna had been left discarded on the ground, it had given him the idea of strangling the boy to death. He remembered watching him struggle and writhe against his iron grip. In that moment, in a twisted sick way, he had enjoyed watching the boy squirm and struggle, and his uncle's reactions had only added to his pleasure._ It wasn't just watching, either, _he realized. _It was having him at my command, knowing he was helpless, and repressing all his attempts to fight back. It was the fact that I was in control, that I could do whatever I wanted with him, and he couldn't do a thing to stop me. _He shook his head, almost failing to believe what he was thinking; unable to acknowledge the fact that he could enjoy something so bloodthirsty. _I'm no better than Talon is. Perhaps, I'm more twisted than he is._

He looked back at Talon, half in disbelief, noticing only now the excited spark in his eyes. He took pleasure in the same thing, but Talon either didn't realize it, or didn't care. _What kind of monsters are we?_ Stephon asked himself. _What have I allowed myself to become?_

"You be quiet mage." Talon growled at the young man, shoving him back with enough force to disorient some of the guards that were holding him. "You'll be with him soon enough."

"Please!" The young man went on. "Please you can't kill him! He's one of the four Warriors of Light! If you kill him we're all doomed to die with the land! Stop! Please!"

_Doomed to die with the land. _The boy's words struck Stephon with an uncanny kind of intensity. _Die with the land? That's what's happening to this kingdom? It isn't a dry spell, the land is physically dieing. _The looked at the young, frantic black mage. _If they die, the land will die with them, because of us. _

"_Die with the land..." "Nobles either don't know or don't care..." "So blissfully unaware, it's a shame we all couldn't be that way..." "Kingdom is dying." "People are dying" "Mages are dying" "Everyone's dying" _Voices swam about Stephon's head in a frenzy.

Talon turned around slowly and with an exasperated sounding sigh he gave out an order. "Slit the boy's throat, we don't need to listen to his idle bantering."

"Maric!" The younger black mage cried now, his yellow pupilless eyes growing wide, as if to portray the emotion of fear. Stephon had seen that reaction all too often from mages. Every time he caught one, especially with the innocents, and sometimes, even those who were guilty, each one always held the same expression of fear when they were met with either his, or Talon's sword, and another mage's life was ended. _Say something. _A voice urged him in the back of his head. _This isn't right. Warrior or not, that boy is innocent._

The red mage was being pulled back away from Talon now, a sword held to his neck, and Talon was advancing on the young black mage again, who was struggling and squirming helplessly, in an attempt to free himself, but to no avail. There was no way now for him to free himself from Talon's wrath. No way now to avoid his inevitable fate, unless Stephon himself intervened. _But why? Why stop Talon from killing him? Innocent mages die all the time, don't they, and at what expense?_

The mage's pleading yellow eyed gaze shot once again to his comrade. "Maric!" The boy called once again, giving one last attempt to free himself, and failing miserably. He turned to Talon now with fear filled eyes. "Please don't do this, we haven't done anything."

"Save your breath." Talon growled. He raised his arm now, brandishing his glinting sword that caught the light of the torches that surrounded them. Stephon could see the sword coming down and cutting the poor little mage down right in front of his eyes, as Talon laughed with that insane twinkle in his eye. The red mage would cry out, only to be slain a second later and the old man, last would meet his end after witnessing that of his nephew and what may have very well been his son. He knew it could happen, he could see it happening in his mind, but it never did. All these violent scenes that for Stephon had become every day acts never took place in reality, all because of one, half-unconscious movement. In one swift movement, Stephon's hands shot out and grappled his brother's arm, holding him back, and for once, sparing the innocent mage who was thought to be guilty.

"Stop!" Stephon cried before he could stop himself and all at once all eyes fell on him. Talon pulled himself from his brother's grip, looking at him in disbelief. For once in his life, Stephon found himself at a loss for words, and stood looking silently at his brother, struggling to come up with an explanation for his actions.

Talon never gave him the chance to think. "What are you doing?" The swordsman asked his older brother, astonished by Stephon's sudden interruption.

"T-Talon.." Stephon began, looking the young man over a few times, and for a second more, struggling to form some kind of explanation in his mind. At last he began again feigning confidence. "You heard what the boy said."

"Who?" Talon asked, raising an eyebrow. "What, you mean the mage?" He snorted, dismissively.

"Yes, the mage." Stephon confirmed, now feeling vaguely annoyed with his brother's indifference. " Talon, what if the land really is dying. Maybe it isn't a dry spell at all. What if.. what if..." Stephon found himself again at a loss for words; Talon's skeptical gaze suddenly robbing him of any confidence he might have been able to muster previously.

"Stephon, you're thinking about this too much." Talon sighed. "In a last minute effort to save yourself, you know you would do anything, and say anything that could spare your life. You should at least know that by now." He turned, readying his sword again.

Stephon felt his face growing hot as his brother turned his back on him. He realized with a start that his hand was wrapped around the hilt of his sword, and pulled his hand back from it with a swift jerk.

"Talon listen to me." Stephon cried, pulling Talon back a little more forcefully than he had intended. "Talon you said it yourself, the kingdom is dying, we're in a downhill spiral, and right now, there's nothing to stop us from hitting the bottom."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Talon asked, turning to face Stephon once again, this time looking a bit weary. "More importantly, why is that stopping me from hacking that mage's head off right now?" From behind them the young mage gave an audible whimper.

"Well what if it's not just Corneria?" Stephon asked. "What if it's the entire world? You said before that there was nothing we could do to stop it, but, what if there is? What if there really is some way to save ourselves?"

For a second Talon was silent, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head, as if Stephon's whole explanation was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. In truth it probably was. "Now I _know_ you're over thinking this." He sighed, and turning around, he readied his sword.

"Talon stop!"

"Get a hold of yourself Stephon!"

Before Stephon could think twice he found himself crossing swords with his brother, and a second later was on the ground, and the young man's blade was pointed at his neck. He looked up at Talon, who for a second looked so beast like, that Stephon was sure he wouldn't think twice about killing him. For a second they remained like this, but as the seconds passed, Talon's expression softened, and he lowered his blade.

Stephon got to his feet, sheathing his sword, and and glaring at his brother coldly.

"What was that about?" He demanded drawing himself up to full height.

"What are you talking about?" Talon cried, and Stephon noticed that in that moment, an expression of surprise and almost fear had crossed his face. . "You're the one who attacked me."

The older swordsman faltered. He hadn't even realized he'd drawn his sword until he was on the ground, but he knew what he'd done. He noticed now, a small gash in his brother's bare hand. Blood trickled from the wound freely, though it wasn't a deep cut at all. In fact it just barely broke the skin, but there was an underlying meaning to that wound, and Stephon knew that he'd subconsciously meant for it to be much more than just a little cut. _What is wrong with me? _Stephon asked himself, shaking his head. _Why can't I go three seconds without trying to hurt someone? Am I going insane?_

"Listen to me Talon." Stephon drew himself up to full height again now. He couldn't let his brother off now, and he knew that if he relinquished his dominance now, not only would the lives of the three mages and the thief girl end, he would also risk loosing control of his brother altogether. " I have had enough of your defiance. I am your superior, the heir of the Carris family, and quite possibly the heir to the throne. You will follow my commands without question and indefinitely unless a superior of mine says otherwise, do you understand me?"

He was met with silence; a grave and painful silence that could easily break someone with a weak heart. Talon glared at Stephon with a kind of unadulterated hatred that Stephon had previously only seen in short bursts. Stephon had never seen him look at him exclusively like that, and he knew at once the damage that his words had done. He knew that he had crossed a line with the young swordsman, and suddenly that final link between them; that fragile, weak, and tired bond called brotherhood that kept them together despite their quarrels, and jealousy, and differences had finally broken.

"Well then... S_ir _Carris." Talon began, breaking the silence at long last. " I await your orders." His words were bitter, and spoken with such an icy, hate filled tone that Stephon felt himself shudder inwardly.

Stephon met his glare with that of his own, momentarily. "Take this... this boy before the king." He ordered, sweeping his eyes about the rank of soldiers. " Take the others straight to the dungeons, to be executed the following morning." He turned to leave, a murmur steadily rising as the soldiers prepared to march, accented by small outbursts of protest from each of the mages.

"What about our deal?" The thief girl's voice rang out loud and clear above the rising din. "You said you would let me go free!"

"I've said a lot of things." Stephon replied casually. "Take her away."

"You liar!" The thief girl barked. "You'll pay for this later noble! Mark my words, I'll make you pay!"

Stephon smirked, turning to begin leading the march. He looked to the ground momentarily, his eyes sweeping the cobblestone ground before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a small leather bag lying upon the ground, it's contents spilled out along the ground. A bit of gil had been scattered, but a small sum of gil was of little importance compared to the large green crystal that was laying amongst it. He snatched the gem from the ground, turning it in his palm a couple of times before reclaiming the bag and slipping the jewel back inside. For a second, had it appeared that the gem had given off a faint light of it's own. It was only a notion, and probably a trick of the torch lights around him, but it still seemed a little out of place, and odd for a crystal to glow on it's own.

"Sir! Sir, please listen to me!" A rather shrill sounding voice caught Stephon's attention at long last, and he turned to see the young mage boy, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously. He jumped slightly when Stephon turned to face him, bit didn't back down.

"What do you want?" Stephon asked, letting pure exasperation run freely in his voice. "Didn't I order you to march?"

"Sir... Sir Carris." The boy reiterated the mock title Talon had given him in a slightly revering tone. "You... you can't make... them... you see... Maric is a warrior of light too... and so is that other girl, we think, so..."

"So you're saying I have to let them go free as well?" Stephon finished for the black mage, who nodded his head vigorously in confirmation. The knight raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Don't push your luck mage." He shook his head turning to the rank of soldiers once more. "Forward march!" He commanded, and all at once the rank began to move, pushing the rest of the mages along with them.

"Wait!" The boy cried, looking back at Stephon with his large orb-like eyes wide as if to portray the emotion of surprise or anxiety. "Please listen! You must know the story about the Warriors... the ones who came to rid the world of darkness, those warriors. There were four of them, they each had a crystal and they... they had to kill the darkness or else the world would... it.. would..." He trailed off abruptly, suddenly looking quite defeated. "You know what I'm talking about... right?"

"No... No I don't." Stephon responded quite icily. Talking to this boy was already beginning to grow tiresome, and after only a few seconds, it was no small wonder Talon had thought to do him in first.

"But they are... and... and..." The young mage looked frantic now. " Please don't put Maric to death!"

Stephon sighed. _This is getting ridiculous. _He thought, shaking his head. _I don't know what's worse, the fact that I'm trying to talk to a mage, or the fact that I'm listening to one._

"Look." He said finally, and the mage looked at him again, this time with hopeful eyes. " You said that there are four Warriors of Light. Counting the thief girl, this.. 'Maric' person and yourself, I see only three. If you can show me the fourth warrior of Light, and prove that he's one of these.. 'Light Warriors' to me, then I'll believe you."

Stephon could barely believe what he was saying, and knew very well how ridiculous he sounded, but the mage boy seemed to take the question very seriously. He looked away watching his feet for a second, as if in deep thought, looking up at intervals to watch Stephon.

" Well...I.." He began at last. "We haven't found the last one yet. I can't tell you exactly..."

"It's you."

A third voice, butted into their conversation quite abruptly, and Stephon's attention was turned to the other magic wielding young man. He was looking over his shoulder as he walked, apparently having followed their conversation quite intently for the entire time.

"Excuse me?" Stephon asked, slightly startled by the mage's sudden intrusion. _Looks like I won't be getting away from this mage kid as fast as I'd hoped. _He sighed mentally.

"You're the fourth warrior." The young man repeated in a steady, sure voice. His eyes were cool, and emotionless, almost seeming calm despite the gravity of his words.

For a second Stephon felt his face growing hot, and he was sure that his heart was capable of bounding out of his chest. His mind was swimming. _That's impossible. How could he know that so quickly? Is he just making it up? He seems so confident about it. _He shook himself of the idea all at once, realizing with a start that he was doing exactly what the mages wanted him to. _This is silly. They're trying to make me doubt myself, and let them go free, that's all._

"I... I'm flattered by your offer, really." The noble began in the most courteous voice he could muster. "But trying to trick me isn't going to help you, so now if you could just..."

"You have the last crystal," The mage went on in the same forward, near to expressionless voice, practically ignoring Stephon's words. "I saw you drop it when your comrade attacked you."

Stephon rolled his eyes. "A crystal?" He repeated, barely able to believe what he was hearing. "So the only thing you have to relate me to some kind of organization designed to save the world, is a crystal? This thing?" He swiftly yanked the emerald colored gem out of the leather pouch, and held it in front of the two mages. "This, is just another heirloom that has been passed down from my father to my brother and me. We have about six or seven different items of value that go through the same transition from father to son, and this is probably one of the least important of those said items. It's just a good luck charm, if anything... it..."

"Believe what you like." The red clad man dismissed him, his voice seeming to carry a rather cold undertone. "You can deny it all you want, but sooner or later, you'll be back. You know it in your heart, don't you? You know that the world is falling away from the light and is slowly being consumed by evil. You want to do something to stop it, but you don't know how."

Stephon could say little to that. For the second time the mage boy's words hit Stephon in a way that no-one else's had. It was almost as if the boy knew him, or at least knew what he was thinking. It was true, he did want to stop the world from dying, or at least stop Corneria from being lost. _But how can four people do something like that? _Stephon wondered. _What this man is suggesting we do is impossible, completely impossible. There's no way to stop something like drought or famine. If there was we would have already figured it out. _

"You're cracked." Stephon sighed looking at the human-like mage. "Completely mad, just like the rest of your kind. I hope you know that."

"And you're ignorant and arrogant." The mage replied quite matter-of-factly. "What's your point?"

Stephon started slightly upon hearing the mage's reply. He barely knew whether to be surprised, or angry, or perhaps both.

"So, is this the way all mages treat someone who's just spared their lives?" Stephon inquired, his temper slowly beginning to build.

"No, this is the way most mages treat someone who's attempted to end their life twice, and nearly succeeded once." The young man replied icily, turning away.

"Maric!" The younger black mage cried out, obviously distressed by his comrade's choice of conduct, but the older mage paid him no heed.

"Halt!" Stephon issued the command to the small battalion, who came to a sand still in the middle of the little, nameless town. "Change of plans!" He informed the soldiers. "Take them all to the dungeons. I'll decide what to do with them later."

"Wait! No! Don't do this!" The smallest of the mages was presently shrieking again, but Stephon turned, pretending not to hear, and hung back until his voice faded into the distance.

He sighed, a vaguely guilty feeling repressing the air of triumph that should have filled him completely. It didn't make much sense to him. Every fiber in his body was telling him to trust those two mages, and to follow them on their quest to save the world, against all reason and all rationality. The impulse was strong, stronger than anything he'd ever felt before, but to go merely by one blind impulse was foolish and probably dangerous. _What kind of madness is this? _Stephon asked himself. _Following the words of mages? Trusting in the very person who you were locked in hand to hand combat with only minutes ago? Why would you even think of doing that? So the mage was a little charismatic, maybe the smaller one was pathetic enough to actually take pity on. It doesn't make them any better than they were. They're still mages._

Out of the corner of his eye, Stephon could see Talon approaching rapidly from behind him. His eyes were to the ground, and his mouth pulled into a sour scowl, refusing to look up as Stephon approached him.

"Another job well done I'd say." Stephon began casually, trying to ignore his brother's sinister air. "Three mages caught, and a thief to boot. Might even help us figure out what all these attacks are about. It's actually kind of exciting, wouldn't you say?"

Talon made no move to reply, instead merely glancing up at him for a moment, and for a second, his expression softened, almost to the point of smiling. However if a smile was present, it was an absolutely chilling one, and a rather knowing one as well. The younger brother shook his head, as if laughing to himself, and silently ridiculing his elder brother. "_You're so naïve_." He seemed to say.

With that final look and shake of a head, Talon quickened his pace so as to force Stephon to fall behind, and Stephon, against all better judgment made no attempt to keep up with him. He let him walk away, knowing that every moment they spent apart would only separate them more. He also knew that there was little he could do right now to make amends with the young swordsman, and that at the present moment, there was far more to worry about than broken feelings.

When Maric looked back on the experience he was sure he would find that he'd learned two things from his brief run in with the two knights. The first, and probably the most important was that it was never a good idea to insult the man who's holding a sword to your neck, and the second, was that silence spells, despite being classified as white magic, were debatably one of the most unpleasant spells you could ever be put under. Though the process was simple, and relatively quick and painless, but there was a lot to be said about the sudden burst of panic you feel as you realize that your voice has been taken. For a second, a tingling sensation fills your throat that feels as if you've just swallowed a vat of ice so that, though you know you can't, the only thing you want to do at that moment is cry out, and the fact that you can't makes it all the more torturous. As he was flung into the dark, damp dungeon cell in a rather unceremonious fashion, he found himself questioning the legitimacy of a silence spell as white magic, since it was clearly intended to hinder the person it was cast on, not to protect.

_At any rate, what in the world are white mages doing in castle Corneria?_Maric wondered as he picked his rather sore body up off the hard, rather wet dungeon floor. _Surely they know that other mages are being put to death every few minutes here, yet instead of trying to help them, they're aiding the government in bringing fourth their demise. _

Then again, relationships between white mages and black mages had always been strained. In truth, most white mages hated black mages, as their views, customs, and often personalities were altogether opposite of one another. _If it meant staying alive you would've been right there with them a day or so ago. _Maric reminded himself bitterly. _At any other moment you'd have raised your sword in order to put a black mage down, as long as it wasn't Rachen, and you'd probably do it even now if you were told to. Don't try to fool yourself._

Maric frowned, wrapping his arms about his body to try to conserve warmth. It was bitter cold beneath the ground, far colder than it was on the surface, and Maric imagined that if criminals weren't put to death as quickly as they were anymore, they'd surly catch their death down in the cold underworld they were trapped in. The dingy low walls, and wet, cold floors weren't much to look at. Moss grew abundantly in between the stones, and water seeped endlessly from the cracks in the morose stone walls. A vaguely annoying dripping sound echoed throughout the hollow catacombs that seemed to be just out of reach, and the high pitched squeaking of rats served as the only sounds to be heard in the dreary prison, and already Maric felt a sense of despair growing around him.

"Maric!" Rachen's low gravely voice suddenly cut through the perpetual silence, echoing quite noisily along the catacomb ed walls. "Is that you lad?"

_Rachen! _Maric's heart lept at the sound of his uncle's voice. He tried to cry out to him, but was stopped by his temporary lack of a voice, and instead, made a point of running to the black mage, and wrapping him in a fond, tight embrace. For a second, Rachen seemed to flinch a little at the affectionate gesture, as if surprised, but returned the gesture as lovingly as a father to son. Vaguely he found himself wondering why no-one had bothered to silence Rachen, and he mentally concluded that either the guards hadn't taken the precaution because they knew he was powerless without his charms, or that Rachen had found a way around the spell altogether. The latter was the more presumable explanation.

"Ye gods Maric never do something like that again." Rachen whispered as he embraced his nephew. "Like... like any of the things you did back there. Taunting death every chance you get.."

Maric nodded being quite unable to do anything else. It was odd. Right now Maric was expecting, above all else, to be in for nothing less than a long winded "look what you got us into now" speech, but at the moment, Rachen was calm, and caring, more so than Maric had ever seen him in his life.

"Maric.."Rachen said his name again, pushing him away gently, hands still on his shoulders, holding him at just about arms length. The old man looked his nephew over, this time with a loving kind of reverence, and Maric couldn't stop a smile from spreading over his soot covered face. "Maric I..." He began again, stopping abruptly just as he uttered the words, he sighed, looking into the boys eyes with a far away kind of sadness in his gaze. "You know, you look like your mother when you smile. I always thought you did, but I... I guess I never got around to telling you..." He trailed off, his voice sounding suddenly reminiscent and very far away.

Maric would have chuckled; Rachen would never change, always rather abrupt and sometimes nonsensical, though Maric could feel a certain bit of anxiety and discomfort in Rachen's voice as he spoke. Something was wrong, or just different about him. He wasn't quite as outspoken as he usually was, not as blunt or outgoing. There was something reserved in him at the present moment; something that Maric couldn't quite put his finger on.

"..Took your voice did they?" Rachen concluded softly, probably noting the fact that Maric hadn't spoken yet. "That's a shame, I'd have liked to hear your voice a few more times before... well.." The black mage trailed off into silence again, his eyes breaking contact with the red mage's as he did.

Maric could fill in the silence with it's true meaning from there. _Before we die. _He finished for him mentally, shuddering slightly at the thought. He hadn't realized how grave the situation was until he really stopped to think about it. Ultimately, this would be the last night he had on Gaia, the time was ticking down. The plans he'd had, the warriors of light, Shane Tellerman and his hero of a father, none of them would matter any more. They may not have even mattered in the first place. It was that ultimate fact, that sudden realization that life was coming to a close so soon that suddenly made Maric realize everything up to this point had been for naught. His life, in the long run, meant nothing to anyone, and would mean nothing for years to come. Sure he'd made his way, he'd survived, learned some magic, had some fun, but all for what? For the final day to come and then to fade away into nothingness? To hold in his mind one final fantasy before everything slipped out of the way and into obscurity forever? He clung to his uncle's robe again, the new found realization of the insignificance of his existence crashing over him like a tidal wave.

"H-hey now." Rachen spoke softly now, though in a rather surprised voice. "Don't worry, there's no reason to think about... about things like that right now. We're all going to make it out of here alright." His eyes told a different story. Maric knew Rachen was lying through his teeth, he was sure of it, but he was also sure the mage would never admit it. "Hey where's.. Where's Tellerman, he's down here too isn't he?"

A slight tap on the shoulder drew the attention of the two mages to a second set of yellow glowing eyes that stood back quite a ways from the other two. Rachen jumped a bit upon realizing that the little black mage had been standing behind them the entire time.

"Ye gods Tellerman, does everyone in your family do that?" He asked looking at him in near disbelief. The boy cocked his head to one side, obviously confused. "Couldn't count how many times Wyatt did that to me." He elaborated. "Just pop up out of nowhere like that. We thought it was because he was the quiet one." He paused, looking at Shane closely now. "You're a lot more talkative than he is...or... was rather. A lot more outspoken." He paused again briefly. "You aren't much like him at all are you?"

Maric felt a vague twinge as Rachen uttered these words, and he was sure he saw Shane's eyes fall as if in defeat when he heard the words spoken. _Shane's whole goal was to shadow his father. _Maric recalled. _He was willing to do so to the point of risking his life. Now that we've been condemned here, does that mean everything he did was for nothing? It doesn't seem right. _

But nothing seemed right anymore, and the horrible twisted world that the two knights and all their superiors ruled over saw to it that nothing ever would be right. The world would plunge into chaos, and all would be lost.

"Sit down you two." Rachen urged them suddenly, alighting to the floor himself on a whim. "It's going to be a long night, there's no use standing."

Maric nodded, following obediently as did Shane, and the old man held the two boys close to him, all three of them wanting nothing more than to relish the last couple of peaceful moments they had together. Presently Maric felt his limbs suddenly growing tired and heavy, realizing at once how exhausted he was. With the events of the day past, it was easy to see why, but despite how utterly tired he was, he was hesitant at the thought of falling asleep, for fear of what the new day would bring.

"Maric..." Rachen began again, still sounding as hesitant and unsure as he had previously. "Maric you... you know that if you can do anything to get yourself out of this, you have nothing to lose. Take a chance if you must, you too Tellerman, anything you can do..." He looked down again. It was obvious, this time, what was wrong with Rachen. He was holding something back from them. There was something he didn't want the two of them to know, or at least didn't quite know how to tell them. Rachen struggled with his words again. "Maric you..." Rachen began again, his voice suddenly very low, as if telling a story that he wanted no-one else to hear. "You know how you've always been, well, at least a little curious about the Warriors of Light story?" A smile spread upon Maric's face as he heard the Crystal story mentioned. "What if I was to say that, there might be a chance it could happen?"

Maric's heart lept, and he could barely suppress a grin from spreading across his face. _He knew all along it was true. _Maric concluded. _He knew it._

"Listen, don't get your hopes up lad, don't think I don't know what you're thinking already. I'm not trying to lead you on a fairy tale quest." He paused again to recollect his thoughts. "But I know that you aren't the only person who knows about the Warriors of Light myth, and that's something you can use to your advantage."

Maric gave him a sideways look, not quite knowing what conclusion Rachen was trying to lead him to. Realizing he hadn't made his point clear, Rachen elaborated.

"Rumor has it that one of the royals, the oldest daughter, Sarah just up and disappeared without a trace a while back." Rachen went on, his talk seeming quite aimless now. "Some people said they saw her riding off with another man, or something to that effect. It's had people talking about the prophesy quite a bit of late. It's always been told that the whole Light Warrior quest began with the rescue of a kidnapped royal. Usually it's a princess, unmarried, and on the verge of adulthood. That blond man seemed pretty interested in the crystal prophecy. With any luck, that could push him along far enough to just end up letting you go free."

Maric smiled faintly. Rachen might have been a fool, but he certainly did have his moments. _But what happens to you, Rachen? _Maric asked silently, wishing desperately to voice his question aloud. _I can't leave you here. How could I live with myself then? _ He tried to imagine how Rachen would respond to that. Possibly he would just assure him that he had a plan of his own, he wouldn't put that past Rachen at any rate. There was also the possibility that he would react in a way that completely defied all laws of self-preservation and dismiss the idea altogether, along with the same chilling declaration that had jarred him ever since their conversation in the basement of the magic shop. _"Whatever I get up there I've had coming for a long time."_

_But he can't mean it. _He mused _He has to be planning something. It's not like Rachen to be dragged down so suddenly. He'd never let it happen without a fight. He'll make it out alive, and if not.. _He paused, his heart sinking. What happens if he doesn't have a plan?

He looked to Rachen once more trying to analyze, from the outside, what might be going on in the mage's mind. _If not... _He began again. _Then I'll come back for him if I'm free, and if I'm not free, then we'll all go down together. _ He smiled again, suddenly feeling quite a bit more calm than before. The presence of Rachen, and even of Shane, seemed to help quell the vexing anxiety that filled him every time he thought of the inevitable fate that awaited them come morning. He inched closer to Rachen leaning his head up against his uncle's well cushioned flank. _This can't be the end. It isn't a coincidence that all four warriors of light are present in the same place at the same time, there has to be another reason. There has to be another way. Rachen, I'm scared. I'm really scared, don't leave me._

He felt one of Rachen's arms curl around him in a protective half embrace. He looked at Maric, though now he said nothing as words weren't needed. The friendly, welcoming glow of his wide yellow eyes told Maric everything he needed to know. They would be alright, this wouldn't be the end. It was true, his old life had ended, the old life of a farmer just working to survive had gone before he knew it had left, and the second Maric had left the beaten forest path to follow a voice he didn't recognize, he relinquished his grasp on his old life forever. There would be a new path now, a new path that led towards the unknown, what ever that may be. All he knew is, it wasn't the end, he was sure of it.

Maric slowly let himself settle into a relaxed state, his eyes starting to feel very heavy now. Exhaustion was beating against him even harder now, and at last, Maric succumbed. Letting his eyes close, he let himself drift away from the dungeons at Castle Corneria, and float into a deep, dreamless slumber.

_**Alright then, another chapter in. I'm actually a lot happier with how this one came out than the last one. Anyway, the next chapter is on it's way, so hold on tight.**_

_**Heh.. Rate and Review everyone, you know you all want to.**_

_**Surfingpichu over and out.**_


	10. Chapter 9: Ahead on Our Way

_**Hi all. I would do a write up on this chapter but right now, I'm too tired to think one up. Ah... sorry this is so late, I'll admit I hung on to it for a little too long, but now it's out! Rejoice! **_

_**Also: Thanks to Magic Noise for reviewing. She gets a cookie. No-one else does because they didn't review, so there.**_

_**Okay fine... maybe you can have cookies too... but not the chocolate chip kind... just that weird oatmeal kind with the raisins in them.**_

_**Disclaimer: The surfingpichu has nothing against non-reviewers or oatmeal raisin cookies... oh.. and she doesn't own FFI either... damnit!**_

_**Magic Noise: Yes... don't worry at this point things are beginning to even out. Well.. for now at least. There will be other things to worry about later on, no worries, I'm not going to let my warriors off easy. And yes, the fanart was awesome (seriously. I can't do stuff like that. Like ever. All your pics are awesome really). Again you give me a warm fuzzy feeling on the inside and make me feel loved.**_

_**Chapter Nine: Ahead on Our Way**_

Two tall, heavy wooden doors stood between Stephon and the king's throne room. They were grand and ornate, made of a dark, rich wood and decorated with brass knobs and ornamented hinges, just as imposing and exclusive as any other item in Castle Corneria, but ten times as powerful. Behind these doors sat one of the most powerful men in the land, nay, on all of Gaia. In all his glory he sat now upon his throne, waiting patiently for Stephon to come fourth with his three prisoners in tow, but despite the fact that he knew the man was waiting, Stephon felt hesitant to open the doors and set foot in the king's quarters. The looming doors sent shivers down Stephon's spine, and held a kind of untold power behind them. _I'll have to get used to seeing this. _Stephon reminded himself. _When I' m king I'll be the one behind those doors. People will answer to me. _Gathering up what little courage he had Stephon grasped the brass door handle and pulled with all his might, and the old mahogany doors at last inched open with a loud stiff creak that echoed through the corridor behind him, and sent a chill down his spine.

"My Lord," Stephon peered into the throne room cautiously, his voice suddenly sounding strained and feeble in the king's vast chamber. "I've brought the prisoners as you wished. I am sorry for the delay."

The king's chambers were greater than he'd imagined. Along the middle of the room ran a plush carpet dyed deep scarlet, accented by the white marble floor that made up the integrity of the room. The walls were lined with candles in brass holders, and trimmed with gold. The king sat on a platform that was about two inches from the floor, and sat upon his gold trimmed throne gazing down at them like an idol in his shrine. The man was aged, his face lined with crevices from wisdom and time, and his eyes were dull and listless. A mane of curly light brown hair wreathed his face like a picture frame, and his long beard draped down into the middle of his chest. He wasn't quite as majestic or imposing as Stephon remembered him, perhaps because the recent disappearance of his eldest daughter left him disheartened and broken, or perhaps, just because he was getting old. Beside him stood his attendant,Chancellor Barlados, a rather stern looking man with a shriveled sour face, and dark, graying hair. He stood tall and firm, looking far more lively than King Leo, but at the same time far more aged, and far more strict and far less friendly . At King Leo's right sat a tired looking old woman with graying blond hair that was tied up in a tight bun. Her face was stony, and hard, her mouth turned in a slight frown, and she looked very far away, and full of worry. Her eyes told stories of many a sleepless night, and days full of stress and often times weeping. This woman, Queen Jayne, had taken Sara's disappearance harder than anyone in the royal family, and was a mess because of it.

"Well send them in." King Leo urged impatiently. His voice was high and strained, like the whistling of wind through a small crack in a stone wall.

"Yes My Lord." Stephon bowed, humbling himself as much as he could before the powerful man. Immediately the three prisoners filed in from behind, all looking very ragged and extremely dirty in front of their Royal hosts, the chains that bound them to each other, and held their hands firmly behind their backs clinked rather noisily as they walked. The two mages filed in first, with the thief girl lingering a good distance behind. They all looked rather tense and scared, standing just a little too stiffly, and as they approached the throne made no move of chivalry or even respect.

"You will kneel before His Majesty." Stephon hissed, suddenly feeling almost embarrassed by the three prisoners who claimed to be the Warriors of Light. _Surely there's been some mistake. _He thought watching the three as they followed his orders obediently. _The title they claim to possess is one for the highest and noblest of men, not for filthy commoners, and much less for that of mages and thieves. The boy is lying, he must be._

"So, you are the men who claim to be the Warriors of Light." King Leo mumbled thoughtfully, leaning in to scrutinize their grimy, charcoal covered faces. "But you are only three, where is the fourth in your ranks?"

"They claim that I am the fourth." Stephon answered quickly. "It's nonsense really I have to believe it was just..."

"I did not ask your opinion Stephon." The King interrupted him quite calmly, his quiet voice seeming to hold the power to quiet even the loudest tongue. " Now, let the warriors give their answer."

"Yes My Lord." Stephon mumbled, feeling a bit put off. A slight pang of annoyance suddenly tugging at him. _He can't be believing this. _Stephon assured himself. _The king is a man of good judgment, he wouldn't believe their claims without evidence. _ Hesitantly he removed a small flask containing a mixture of echo herbs and water from his belt and thrust it at the red mage grudgingly.

"Drink this." He commanded him, though in a rather defeated sounding voice. "It'll cancel the silence spell."

The young man hesitated, staring at the light green liquid doubtfully, before shrugging slightly, uncorking the bottle and draining it's contents as quickly as possibly. He winced slightly at the sharp taste that accompanied the liquid, blinking back tears momentarily.

"This man was silenced?" The chancellor inquired, casting a sideways glance at Stephon. "For what reason?"

"This man is a mage." Stephon clarified. "He is a practitioner of the black arts, despite his appearance."

"Is this true?" The king inquired, his attention fully on the red clad young man.

" Ah... It-...It's true." The young man replied, his voice slightly hoarse from the leftover effects of the silence spell. "It's also true that that man is the fourth Warrior of Light, in case you were wondering."

"You will address the King as 'Your Majesty'" Stephon chimed in once again, glaring at the young man. _Does he have no shame, _He wondered. o_r has this man led such a deprived life that he doesn't know how to behave in front of royalty? I doubt the latter highly._

"Alright then." The mage said calmly, seeming unphased by his folly. "In case 'your Majesty' was wondering."

"Would you like to spend the rest of your days rotting away with the rest of your kind?" Stephon growled, fighting to resist the urge to grab the mage by the collar. "If that's what you're after I can certainly arrange that."

"Master Carris," The king's voice now held a hint of warning as he spoke. "You will speak when spoken to in my court, or you will be asked to leave. You may be betrothed to my daughter, but you must remember, you aren't in power yet. Things can change."

"Y-yes My Lord." Stephon replied simply, feeling very humbled now. _Why support a rude knave like him? _ He wondered, a hint of jealousy suddenly spreading throughout his body. _People should be listening to me, not some mage with no social skills and little else._

"Now, explain yourselves." Leo leaned back into his chair, a thoughtful look on his tired face as he inquired. "What exactly has lead you three to believe you are the prophesied Warriors of Light?"

"The crystals. The appearance of the crystals marks the coming of the warriors of light, am I correct?" The young man explained. "Each of the four people you see before you holds one of these crystals. Is that not proof enough?" When met with a rather skeptical look from both Queen Jayne and the chancellor the white haired boy quickly dug his shackled hands into a pocket on the inside of his overcoat, retrieving a red, gleaming crystal that seemed to shine with a light of it's own. The resemblance was uncanny, Stephon would have to admit. Though different in color this gem was about the same size and weight as his own, and instinctively he grabbed hold of the red leather pouch at his belt, feeling the gem inside it through the bag's fabric.

A skeptical glance was exchanged between Queen Jayne and the Chancellor once more, and the color seemed to drain from the young man's face. _It's a ploy._ Stephon concluded, smirking to himself _ They already know it's a ploy. We're just about done here. _However, there was one face among them that seemed still quite interested in the story, King Leo himself.

"You know the tale of the Warriors of Light?" Leo asked, with a lively gleam in his eye that Stephon had never seen present in him before. "The tale of the four young Warriors who against all odds traveled the world to restore the light of the crystals? You know what a perilous task this is?" A nod from the boy led the king onward, his eyes shining with utter excitement as he retold the tale. "Over the plains to the Lands of Pravoka, and across the sea to Elfland. To double back around to Melmond, and then to the channels of Crescent Lake. To visit lands of yet unseen and unknown to the modern maps, and at last, come full circle but never be seen again." His words were rhythmic and almost cheerful, but the story they told was anything but settling.

"Wait a second." The thief girl interjected winning the attention of the entire room for that moment. "What's all this about? Restoring Crystals to light, traveling the world, going against all odds, what are you asking us to do? I never agreed to any of this."

"His majesty is being more than kind to have the likes of you in his presence." Barlados addressed him sternly. "I suggest you show some respect." He turned to the red mage as well. "You as well, your use of common language is appalling."

The mage payed little heed to the Chancellor, keeping his eyes on Leo alone. "Please you Majesty, you must believe me. I am willing to travel across Gaia and back in order to restore the crystals and save our world from darkness. Give us the chance to do so, and we will not fail you, I assure you."

"My Lord we have little reason to believe him." The chancellor addressed King Leo with imploring eyes now. "If we let these... these vagabonds go free there's no telling what they might attempt."

"And if we kill them now we'll never know if we could trust them, will we?" Leo said thoughtfully. "However there is a way we can tell, if they could complete a sort of trail, a test." The three 'Light Warriors' exchanged worried glanced at this, seeming to doubt themselves for the first time. "I assume you are aware of the recent disappearance of my eldest daughter, Sara." The two mages nodded, though the thief made no move or gesture. "It's been rumored that a powerful dark knight made away with her in the dead of night, and though there is no proof, I'm inclined to believe it. You see, prior to her disappearance one of my finest men, a Knight named Garland, fled the castle in a rather violent manner. I know he had a rather strong fixation with Sara specifically, and she disappeared only a few days after his departure." The warriors, Stephon included, listened intently to the King's words. This would mark the first time he's spoken to anyone on the matter, or even admitted that her disappearance was due to a kidnapping.

"Garland was a strong man." He went on. "Strong, but ambitious; too ambitious for the crown. He was the most skilled swordsmen of any in my ranks, and I'm sure that it would take legions of men to even begin to subdue him. However, if the Warriors of Light can truly fight against the fiends who have dampened the power of the crystals, they should be able to defeat Garland as well." He looked to the three young prisoners who were kneeling in front of him, his aged, wrinkled face looking grim and wise. "My task for you is this. Bring my daughter safely back to Castle Corneria and I will let you go free."

A look of disbelief crossed the faces of the three other members of the Gentry in the room.

"Your majesty, please listen to what you're saying." Chancellor Barlados begged. "Doing this means letting them out of your sight, you have no way to monitor what they do once you let them beyond the castle walls."

"The young knight, Stephon, will accompany them, they will be in good hands." The king said confidently.

"My Lord, surely Talon should accompany me on this quest as well." Stephon interjected, his mind suddenly swimming. _Me? Why me?_ He his frantic thoughts were bubbling over in his mind. _Why would he choose me? Alone? Is he mad? I'll be killed. Two mages and a thief, there's no conceivable way for me to fight all of them. The second they decide to rebel against me, I'll be done for._

"I think you can handle them." The king announced in a rather casual tone, uncharacteristic of such a powerful man. "You'll be fine."

"I've tried to be respectful of this decision of late, but I cannot agree to this." It was queen Jayne's turn to cry out now. "I will not allow the likes of mages and commoners around my daughter."

"My dear this is but a trial." The king assured her. "If any of them dares to lift a finger against her I'm sure Stephon will have them killed at once." Stephon felt himself shudder inwardly. _Does he really have that much confidence in me? _He wondered. _I'm not that skilled of a swordsman, not like Garland at any rate. I'm not even quite as good as Talon._

"I'll have no part in this." The queen exclaimed, her disgust clearly communicated in her shrill voice. "I'll order for a legion of my own to be sent, but by no means will I support this quest."

"You will leave at noon today. Use that time to prepare your departure." The king announced, ignoring his wife's announcement, and once again leaving Stephon in shock.

"Noon today?" Stephon repeated, feeling the color drain from his face. "My Lord, your royal majesty and greatness, I must implore you. Tell me, why today? Why so soon? To carry out your quest correctly...it... it would take days to prepare for something so..."

"You will leave at noon today." Leo repeated in the same dismissive voice. "I suggest you begin preparing now."

"Your majesty, please." The chancellor addressed the king in the same calm, business like voice as ever. "You may want to consider the boy's wishes. Your demands are a bit unreasonable. He should at least take some soldiers with him."

"You may leave, Master Carris." King Leo ordered at once, again paying no heed to his attendant.

"B-But... My Lord, please listen to me, I beg you." Stephon pleaded now, defeat hanging heavily over his shoulders. His cry fell on deaf ears.

"You may leave, Master Carris." The king repeated, his expression growing sour, and Stephon paled.

"Y-yes my Lord." He muttered, turning to walk out of the room, with an anxious air hovering about him like a great dark cloud.

"Wait!" The mage suddenly made himself known again, just as he and his two prison mates were being urged to their feet.

"What do you want now?" Stephon whirled around, glaring at him sourly. _Haven't you done enough damage already? _He added silently.

"My uncle, Rachen Hohenzollern, his fate is still undetermined." The boy explained, his eyes looking rather frantic. "Please I must beg you, any of you, please don't harm him."

"Calm down, boy." Leo sighed. "No harm will come to your uncle while you're gone. If you return he will be released as well."

The mage appeared to relax slightly, but the opposite could be said for the other men and women in the room. Queen Jayne and Chancellor Barlados both seemed to be in deep shock. Stephon could barely stand it anymore. This mage boy, despite being a lowly commoner, no, lower than a commoner, practically had The most powerful man in all Corneria wrapped around his little finger, and by what means? Because of the Crystal story? Had this boy somehow managed to manipulate the man's thoughts without having to visibly cast anything? It was highly unlikely, but there were few other explanations for it. Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned to leave.

_What is he thinking?_ Stephon asked himself as he walked through the great wooden doors once again. _Surely there must be some mistake. The king is a man of great wisdom and knowledge. He wouldn't put me up to such an impossible task. Rescuing a princess from a dark knight? What kind of fairy tale is this? Even if it is Princess Sara, how am I supposed to know where she is, or where to go? And at any rate, how can he expect me to keep all three of those... those things under control? I could barely hold my ground attacking them, and that was with the thief girl and Talon on my side. Surely she wouldn't side with me now, and Talon..._

"Having a bit of trouble, brother?" Talon's casual, almost mocking voice interrupted Stephon's train of thought. Stephon spun around to face his brother who was presently leaning quite casually against one of the great marble pillars that supported the castle.

"So, you're speaking to me again, are you?" Stephon asked bitterly, clearly remembering Talon's spiteful actions from the day before.

"Of course I am." Talon replied, striding over to Stephon and trying to display friendliness. "I'm not going to see you for a while, so I figure I should at least take the time to say goodbye."

_How does he know about the quest? _ Stephon wondered. _ Word doesn't spread that quickly. _ Promptly Stephon turned to the prisoners, who were still standing behind him, and were still being kept in line by a small number of prison guards.

"Take those three and cut their shackles." Stephon ordered them. Time couldn't be waisted at this point, there was too little already. "Give them weapons and unsilence the other mage. We're to leave at noon."

Promptly the three warriors of light were led away, for once remaining silent, and accepting orders quite willingly. The sound of their footsteps and clinking chains grew more and more distant until at last, no sound could be heard.

"I heard everything, you know." Talon began once the three prisoners were out of earshot. "That mage really led the king on. He should know the likes of him aren't to be trusted."

"You were eavesdropping, Talon?" Stephon asked, catching the context of his brother's words far more quickly than Talon would have hoped.

"Oh, you can't say you've never done it before." Talon dismissed him. "We've more important things to speak of, remember your time is limited now."

"I know." Stephon sighed, recalling the King's words. "To leave at noon. What is the king thinking?"

"As I said before, it's that mage." Talon explained. "He's hit home really. He knows exactly what Leo wants to hear, and he's told him just that. Mages can be crafty like that. I don't want you getting pulled into that trap as well."

"Talon, you know I'm better than that." Stephon assured the teenager, honestly a little surprised in his lack of faith.

"You think you are, brother. Most people do." Talon corrected him, his expression suddenly growing very grave and serious. "But you must understand, mages spin a twisted web. You may think you're safe from them, and for the moment you may be, but as soon as you let your guard down they'll get you, and it won't be in the way you're expecting them to get you either. They'll make you think you're safe around them, that they'd never dream of harming you. Then the next thing you know you're dead."

Stephon shuddered at his brother's prediction. "I don't think they'd even give me the chance at this point." He said nervously. "They'll just kill me as soon as we're beyond city limits, I think."

"But they wouldn't." Talon replied. "On the contrary, that's just what they want you to think, and then when you realize they haven't attacked you yet, you'll think you're safe."

"It sounds like you're just paranoid, Talon." Stephon dismissed him. "I doubt they've planned that far ahead."

"They tricked the king, didn't they?" Talon pointed out. "They'll trick you too if you aren't careful. That's why you have to spend every waking moment on your guard. Never let it down, and in the end, once they let their guards down, you strike."

"What?" Stephon asked, suddenly very confused. "I'm not trying to kill them Talon. We're just going to try to retrieve the princess."

"And do you really think they're going to help you save her?" Talon asked skeptically. "They just want to save their necks. They think they're home free. You know the queen is sending some troops of her own now to combat Garland. As of late, this is the first course of action I've seen against Garland, and with any luck, she'll be successful. Your warriors of light have no intention of rescuing Sara, and they most likely never will. Instead what you should do is lead them off into the forest towards the Chaos Temple, that old rotten tower to the north, acting as if you're going to search for her there. You lead them for a few days and then slit their throats in the night. I'd say take out the Red Mage first, he's the most likely to try to fight back, and if you get involved with fighting him the others can get away. Then you'll have to take out the thief. She's the fastest runner, so you'll want her out of the way as quickly as possible. Then just get the little black mage, and enjoy killing the little pest as much as humanly possible." Talon smiled at that last notion, seeming vaguely pleased with the idea. "Then all you have to do is come home. I'll cover for you back here, it'll all go over well enough."

Stephon smiled faintly, feeling vaguely impressed with his younger brother's sudden ambition.

"You really have this thought out pretty well, don't you?" Stephon observed, smiling fondly at his brother. "Not half bad. I'd have liked to have you with me on this quest. You'd work well."

"I have things to attend to around here." Talon declined from his offer. "I'm sorry brother, you know the king wants you to do this on your own. Besides, you're less threatening by yourself."

"Well that makes me feel better." Stephon rolled his eyes. He knew his brother meant well, but he was never the best at making people feel at ease. He sighed. _I'm not going to see Talon for a while now. _ He realized with a start that a rather homesick feeling was already beginning to brim up in his heart._ Funny, I might actually miss the poor devil._

Talon clamped a hand firmly, and almost affectionately to his brother's shoulder. "You're bright enough Stephon." He observed. Promptly Stephon felt his ego beginning to swell. "I think you'll come back alive. Just do us all a favor and don't mess up, alright?"

Stephon smirked. _Cocky as ever. _"Right" He assured him, and with that Talon strode off down the corridor, though his destination was unclear.

In his heart Stephon felt almost sad to see him go. It would be the first time the two of them would be separated since they were young. In truth, though Stephon didn't agree with everything Talon did, and visa versa, Talon was truly the person Stephon was closest to. Presently, he felt almost guilty that the two of them weren't closer. _It's odd. _He thought. _Talon and I grew up together, yet I really don't know quite what to think of him. He's important to me, of course, but how important? I wouldn't give up my life for him, and I'm sure he wouldn't do that for me either. _He paused. _Or would he? Would he risk his life for mine? _ He shifted uncomfortably at this notion. _ What if he would? If that's true and I wouldn't for him, does that make me the weak link in this relationship? Maybe it's my fault we are so distant._

Shaking his head, Stephon turned to make his way down the marble staircase and into the main hall. _ That's of little matter now, we'll sort that out after this whole ordeal is done with._ With that he made his way out of the room.

Noon that day came far faster than Maric had expected. He wasn't sure what time they had left the throne room, but he was fairly sure it had been in the earlier hours of the morning, but within what seemed to be minutes Maric found himself and his two fellow Light Warriors standing in a clearing just outside of Corneria, shackles cut, and voices restored, with weapons in their hands and a long road ahead of them. It was amazing how quickly everything had played out, and how swiftly time had rushed past them. Looking back to the walls of Corneria, that now loomed tall and grand over head with the steepled mass that was Corneria Castle peaking out beyond it's shadow Maric couldn't help feeling vaguely homesick. The comforts of his own home, the only home he'd known all his life, seemed to be calling to him, and he longed to have Rachen's ever guiding hand directing him towards what was most likely proper and good. He knew in his heart he couldn't turn back now. Now it was far too late. He'd agreed to try to find the missing daughter of the king of Corneria himself. That was a promise you don't back down on. Hesitantly, he turned away from his mother country, hoping to the gods that it wouldn't be the last time he laid eyes upon it's walls.

"Alright." The Cornerian Knight turned to address the three of them, his ever scrutinizing blue eyes examining their ranks with a look of general dislike. "So this is my squad. The alleged Warriors of Light. Made up of a thief, and two black mages." He chuckled softly at this, almost mockingly. "Amazing. Absolutely amazing. I'm expected to cross blades with the strongest knight in Corneria, with this sorry excuse for a team."

Maric felt his face growing hot at this. He knew very well that the knight, a man of Corneria, thought little of the three of them, but he still had some pride, at least a little had been salvaged from their previous encounters, and he was set on defending at least that.

"I'm not a black mage, first of all," Maric corrected him pointedly. " and second of all, since you've never seen us fight you have no right to judge our skills in combat."

"On the contrary, I _have_ seen you fight, mage, it's nothing to be proud of." the Cornerian dismissed him curtly. "I'm sorry but I don't quite see mediocre sword skill as a way to determine what kind of mage you are. You could be wielding a halberd for all I care, a black mage is still a black mage."

"A black mage who can use white magic?" Maric asked. "I'm a red mage. I use both black and white magic and can wield a sword on top of that."

"So then, you don't quite know _what_ you are, do you?" The swordsman chuckled. "Just couldn't decide what to do with yourself eh? At any rate some white magic could be useful, we could use a healer. Maybe you aren't worthless after all."

Maric flushed, in his mind beginning a statement of protest, but the man began again before he could utter a word.

" Alright then," The Cornerian went on. "since we don't have a large group of people we'll have to go in a single file. That will help make our tracks less noticeable, and at the same time give us more protection as a unit. Miss thief girl, you will take the lead followed by the 'red mage', and then the black mage. I'll take up the rear to protect our back and make sure the three of you don't... stray off. Now, Fall in." He stood before them, looking fairly satisfied with himself, and watched the three of them expectantly.

"We have names you know." The thief girl mumbled.

"Names aren't important right now." The swordsman dismissed her. "We're loosing daylight, and I'd expect to be at the Temple of Fiends by tomorrow night."

"Well if I'm going to have to live with you for the next couple of days I'd like for you to call me Celeste, not 'Thief girl' " The girl, obviously named Celeste replied shortly.

"That's wonderful." The knight sighed, rolling his eyes. "Now please, just Fall in and Forward March."

"Well who died and made you king?"Celeste snapped, apparently not pleased with the knight's seizure of power. "You aren't the head of the Dawn Warriors or whatever we're supposed to be."

"Well I don't see anyone else stepping up to claim the job." The knight growled. " Now march will you?"

Maric shuddered as a cool burst of wind buffeted him in the face. Today would mark one of the coldest afternoons the autumn could offer, and Maric knew it would get only colder as the days passed. _We really shouldn't be standing around here like this. _Maric mentally assessed the situation, looking around a little anxiously. _We can't loose too much time. Every minute we waste standing here means another minute Rachen has to spend in prison. At any rate if we truly are the Light Warriors then who knows how long we'll have before the crystals ultimately lose their light? What happens if we're too late?_

"By the way, you." The Knight addressed Maric, and the red mage looked up just in time to catch a large heavy bag that was presently being thrown at him. "Since you're going to need to fulfill some purpose you'll carry the supplies. You'll keep this with you at all times since it contains rations, potions , sleeping bags and a couple of phoenix downs. You'll be in the back healing most of the time so you won't have to worry about being too burdened in battle to fight... not that it would have mattered in your case."

Maric was left once again without a comeback, and the swordsman's haughty stance and satisfied smirk drove him so blind with anger he was sure he couldn't have said anything that was in any way to his advantage. Instead he shot a cold glare at the man, hefting the bag onto his shoulders. At once he knew why the task of carrying the massive thing had been forced upon him, as it seemed to weigh just about as much as Shane did if not more.

"Alright men, forward march." Came the swordsman's orders, and at last Celeste complied, as if feeling she'd gotten as much pleasure as she could out of stalling their progress.

They began trudging into the thick forest that surrounded Corneria, in a reasonably straight line, and they watched as the canopy of trees engulfed the cool autumn sun, casting the four into a cool, eerie shadow. For some time no-one dared to speak, and their march went on in silence. Dry dead leaves tat carpeted the forest floor crunched noisily with every step they took, and as they descended deeper into the forest, and the light began to become more and more strained, an over all tense and frightened feeling drifted over all four of the Light Warriors.

"Maric?" A soft, timid sounding voice sounded from behind Maric, and craned his head back to see Shane looking a little tired already, and a little scared. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know." Maric replied simply. "Maybe you should ask our 'leader'"

"Do you think we could go a little faster?" The black mage asked again in a very quiet voice. He looked almost embarrassed to be asking, but at the same time, seemed anxious to get out of the woods.

"The Cornerian forest stretches for a good eight miles."Maric informed him. " I don't think we'll be clearing it until some time tomorrow. Trust me, this is fast enough. Even if we do manage to make it through the forest without meeting anything unpleasant, by tonight you'll be aching."

"What're you two talking about?" The knight butted into their conversation in an accusing voice. "Exchanging plans? Plotting something maybe?"

"N-no nothing like that..." Shane cried. "We were just... I mean... I was wondering..."

"Don't you have anything better to do than listening in on our conversations?" Maric cut Shane off, saving him from getting the two of them into more trouble than they were already in.

"I have better things to be doing than this entire 'warriors of light' quest," The Cornerian answered, " But I'm here. Now, I don't want to hear a word from any of you unless a situation arises, is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir Carris." Shane answered him softly.

The knight flushed at the mention of the title. "Never call me by that title again." He commanded, nearly shouting. Shane recoiled slightly at his sudden outburst.

"Why would you want to?" Celeste asked turning around. "We all know you're name's Stephon. Right Stephon?"

"D-don't call me Stephon either." The knight, apparently named Stephon, cried. " Look if you ever need to address me you will call me..." He trailed off, apparently not sure of exactly what he would like to be called. " sir... just sir."

"Yes sir." Shane affirmed enthusiastically, straightening up slightly, prompting a smirk from Stephon, and a sigh from the two others in his company.

"What ever you say Stephon." Celeste sighed, rolling her eyes, and returning to her steady march pace.

"Listen girl I've had just about enough from you." Stephon growled, halting a once. " If you think I'd hesitate in driving a sword through your breast, you can think again. We aren't the only people combating Garland, you can be replaced."

"Y-you wouldn't..." Shane gasped, stumbling away from the blond haired swordsman.

"You think I wouldn't, mage?" Stephon smirked. "Wouldn't you kill me if you got the chance? Get yourself our of trouble? Run away? Go free?"

"You have no idea how much pleasure I would take in ending your sorry life," Maric interjected, cutting Shane off before he could reply, not quite wanting to know how the black mage would have reacted to Stephon's harsh words. " but there would be no sense in killing you. If you truly are the fourth Light Warrior then that would make it impossible for the crystals to be salvaged."

"Don't try to make yourself look noble, mage. You know what you're in this for, you just want to save your neck. You and your beloved uncle." Stephon dismissed him. " Only a mad man would believe that kind of crack pot story ."

"You believed it pretty readily yesterday." Maric pointed out. "What of that, did you simply change your mind about it at the last minute, or are you trying to say something about yourself?"

Stephon's face went an even deeper shade of red at this. "Don't try to mock me mage." He growled, approaching Maric slowly, so that he could look down into his eyes. He was only about five or six inches taller than Maric was in the long run, but his well filled, muscular body, and haughty poised stance made him seem to tower over the mage the way the alpha male would stand above a lowly drone. "I saved your life back there. If I hadn't taken action both you and your little friend would be dead. You'd better start showing a little more gratitude very soon or else I might be moved to reverse my decision."

"I have no reason to show gratitude to you." The red mage replied, trying not to show how intimidated he felt. "You're the whole reason all of this happened to us. If it wasn't for you and all the rest of you inbred louts that rule the kingdom we wouldn't have been in any danger in the first place."

Stephon raised an eyebrow. "You act as if you wouldn't be caught." He commented. "Are you really cocky enough to think that the Cornerian government would overlook you, and that you could get away with practicing magic, or are you just naïve enough to think they wouldn't care?"

"Well obviously I wasn't _too _cocky since both Shane and I managed to get away with our lives." Maric pointed out. " Am I right?"

"We'll have to see about that." Stephon said in a low voice, almost as if he was talking to himself. He drew his sword slowly, with an unnecessary amount of precision in his movements, and held the blade aloft, threatening Maric with it's tip. "Alright, boy. You have a sharp tongue,but lets see if your blade is as strong as your words."

"I told you already, I'm not going to try to kill you." Maric said nervously, taking a step back. "There's no sense in trying to fight you here."

The knight laughed, letting his sword drop. "Kill me? You think you could actually kill me?" He exclaimed, a peal of humorless laughter rebounding through the forest. "Mage, I'll believe that when I see it, and trust me, the bowels of hell would freeze solid before you stood even the slightest chance against me in head on combat."

"Really?" Maric straightened up suddenly, his hand automatically finding it's way to the rapier that hung from his belt, and with that he readied himself for battle, at once dropping the large, cumbersome pack on his back to the ground. Stephon's words had crushed any peaceful intentions Maric had had. At this point, all he wanted was to see the knight regretting his words, "Let's test that theory, shall we?"

"It's not theory, mage, it's fact." Stephon corrected him, smirking. "At any rate, I'll accept your challenge, if you'd call it a challenge."

"Maric don't do this." Shane cried out from behind the red mage, looking a little worried. "You said you weren't going to fight."

"He's the one asking for a fight." Maric replied, trying not to show how annoyed he was. " And if it's a fight he wants, he's got one."

"What are you standing around for?" Stephon urged him. "If you aren't going to start, I will."

With that, the knight lunged at him, taking no precautions before throwing himself into the heat of battle with his blade held aloft. Maric parried the blade, stepping back to put some distance between the two of them and to give himself time to think, but before he could even ready his sword to launch a counter offense, he found that Stephon's longsword had ducked around his blade and was, once again, flying towards him.

He stepped back again, bringing the rapier he held around to meet Stephon's blade once again. _He's fast. _Maric noted mentally. _Too fast, how am I supposed to get around that? On top of everything, he's using a longsword. I've never seen anyone handle a longsword with that amount of speed behind it. _One problem with Maric's technique at the present moment, as far as fighting went, was the sword he held presently. The rapier he'd grown accustomed to using, and had basically learned how to wield a weapon with, was presently lying discarded on the floor of Rachen's magic shop. Instead, Maric had been equipped with a second rapier, that was far more ornate and was made with a stronger metal, but felt awkward and heavy, almost difficult to use. He knew, though, that wielding the Excalibur would still put him at a disadvantage against the swordsman he faced now, since, though he would never admit it, he was probably more skilled with a sword than Maric could ever hope to be.

Blows seemed to come in a frenzy now, as a constant, and unyielding barrage of one blow after the next, some barely missing their target, and others nearly breaking Maric's guard altogether, meaning his only option was to stumble backwards, just to get out of the reach of the man's blade. A feeling of fatigue was already picking at Maric's arms and legs as he was driven farther and farther back, off the beaten path and into the brush. He couldn't find time to retreat, nor room to repost or attack. All he could do was parry attack after attack, and even that was wearing Maric down sufficiently. _ I can't keep this up. _He realized, as he narrowly dodged another lunge from Stephon. _He's going to win eventually, I can't move. I have to at least try to attack once. _

He took a breath, holding it in slightly as he parried one last blow. _ I have to at least try._ He told himself, raising his sword, and with all the might he had left, he threw himself at the man, sword held aloft closing his eyes and hoping for the best. What he was met with was a sudden clang and ringing steel in his hand. He was knocked to the ground and barely even had time to feel the impact of his body against the bramble covered ground before a sword pointed itself at his neck.

"Maric!" Shane cried out the red mage's name as he fell to the ground, and was met with a warning glance from red mage when he attempted to run forward to help him.

He followed the path of the blade up with his eyes to see the swordsman, hovering over him with a smug smile on his face and a vicious gleam in his aqua blue eyes.

"Well that settles that." Stephon concluded in a rather contented sounding voice. His eyes traced Maric's figure, as if to inspect his work. "What, tired already, mage?" He asked in a tone of mock surprise. "I'm disappointed, I thought you would at least be amusing to warm up against, but no, that was just boring."

Maric knew the man's words were probably true. In truth Maric was already quite exhausted, and he could see clearly that his foe had barely broken a sweat in their brief duel. In fact, just as he had in the magic shop, there was never a time when Stephon, even for a brief moment, had seemed the least bit tense. His eyes stayed calm and cool even now, and forever returned his contempt with a jeering gaze.

"I... I just tripped, that's all." Maric attempted to excuse himself, knowing how pathetic he sounded, but in his mind, reassuring himself that it was better than admitting defeat. With that he moved to get up from the ground, pushing himself up from the reclined position with his forearm, but as he moved, he was met with Stephon's blade again.

"Now, where do you think you're going?" Stephon asked, his smile growing wider as Maric's expression turned to one of confusion. "I never said I was going to let you up, now did I?"

"You won, I'll admit it." Maric muttered, his pride finally dissipating. "Now will you stop fooling around."

"But I haven't 'won' yet, mage." Stephon said, suddenly advancing on Maric again, his sword drawing far too close to him for comfort. "You see, you're still alive. I haven't 'won', until my opponent is dead."

Maric felt a cold wave of fear rush over him. His expression softened now, and he attempted to scramble back, only to end up slipping back into a reclined position, with the sword at his throat now preventing him from getting up. _ He wouldn't really kill me, would he? _He wondered. _Would he do that? If this is what he was planning on doing, why did he wait to attack me? _

"St-stop this." Maric managed to stutter, being rather shaken from the sudden danger he found himself in. "I... I never meant... I didn't intend to fight you to the death."

Stephon chuckled slightly at this. "Well then I'm terribly sorry to inform you that _I_ did." He replied. "You have to learn, mage, when you attack a man with a sharpened weapon, in the manner that you attacked me, you aren't going to be in for a friendly match."

"W-what is this going to accomplish?" Maric asked, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. " Why are you doing this? Killing me isn't going to get you anywhere."

"On the contrary, mage." Stephon began in the same haughty, arrogant voice. "Killing you will set an example for those around you." He turned to Celeste and Shane who stood behind him, while driving his tip down further so that it was lightly resting on Maric's breast. " Watch carefully, you two, this is what happens when you cross me."

"Stop!" A sudden cry from the young black mage, who was now standing behind Stephon only about a half a meter away from the knight himself, halted any action that would have happened on the scene and drew all attention to Shane. He stood, now, with a strong, almost intimidating stance, his eyes suddenly very narrow, and his hands balled into white knuckled fists. Shane no longer looked like the little black mage who had only moments before been practically cowering before Stephon. Now he held power, and confidence, maybe a little more confidence than a black mage should have.

"You won't do any harm to Maric." He cried now, his voice shrill and, in all honesty, sounding a little ridiculous, but there was something about the boy's stature that demanded some respect. Stephon's face was suddenly rather stony, and grim as he watched the mage, looking a little pale as he did. "I.. I'm sorry sir but... you must understand, I am indebted to the man you're holding your sword to. He did save my life, you see. Right now I can kill you by saying one word. If you try to kill him, I'll have to kill you."

The knight made no movement or reply, instead freezing up like a statue, not daring to reply. _He's lying through his teeth. _Maric confirmed as he watched the black mage. _Shane couldn't cast a spell correctly if his life depended on it: that's been proven enough times as of late. If Stephon challenges him, we're both done for._

Stephon still made no movement against the mage, instead standing steadfast, not removing his sword from it's position upon Maric's breast, but taking no further action in the matter either. _He believes him. _Maric realized, taking that moment to slip out from under the tip of Stephon's sword, and sit upright.

Shane's eyes didn't move from Stephon, and his small form, that Maric had once viewed as meek and pathetic, was suddenly full of power, and drive. Even though he knew Shane wasn't capable of causing harm to anyone, especially through magic, Maric was sure that if he was in Stephon's position right now, he wouldn't dare try to oppose the mage either.

The standstill laster for a good few minutes, no-one daring to move, and Stephon seeming to grow more and more stiff and frightened as the seconds passed, but as he did, Maric noticed Celeste's figure moving in behind Shane, moving slowly, and with enough stealth that at first Maric wasn't sure if she was really moving at all. Maric got to his feet, watching the girl cautiously, as he cautiously crept around the Cornerian Knight's still figure to meet the thief girl half way. All at once the thief girl lunged forward at Shane with her knife brandished, and poised to strike the mage as soon as she was in range. The boy whipped around suddenly, stumbling back as he saw the blade rushing towards him. Any strength or power he'd manage to feign melted away in that moment, and Maric could see that in that moment he had no way to react or defend himself from an attack that fast and sudden. As if out of pure reflex Maric felt himself lurch forward with his sword extended as far as it could reach, so that just as the thief girl was closing in on the black mage, her knife caught itself on the rapier's blade and a resulting metallic clang echoed throughout the forest.

There was a stunned silence, as the thief girl, the black mage, the red mage, and the warrior all looked on at each other in what seemed to be a mixture of awe and disbelief. For a moment all was silent, and each of the warriors took a step back, Shane looking defeated as the power he'd managed to muster shattered and dispersed, Stephon still a little shaken, Celeste surprised, and Maric, truthfully a little confused as to what he just saw.

"W-what are you trying to do?" Maric addressed the thief girl, a mixture of fear and surprise showing clearly on his face which he made no attempts to try to hide. "I thought you were against Stephon, but now are you against us too? Who's side are you on?"

"I'm not going to be stuck with a couple of freaks like you." Celeste explained. Her voice was biting, and accusing, but on top of all things, she seemed almost scared. "Stephon is the only other normal person in this entire god forsaken group. He may be a horrible excuse for a human being, but at least he isn't a... a..."

"A mage?" Maric finished for her, and with her nod of confirmation he smirked. "So, you would side with someone like Stephon, who is basically the only one keeping you here and who would, if he was moved to do so, stab you through at any given moment, over Shane and me just because we're mages?" Another nod of confirmation, and a glare from Celeste told Maric he was absolutely correct.

"You contradict yourself too much, Mage." Stephon pointed out, now considerably calmer since Shane was no longer staring him down. His cocky attitude had returned, much to Maric's dismay, and he was just as imposing as ever. "You first referred us as a team: The Warriors of Light, but now you've just alluded to choosing sides. A 'team' would need to be unified, not split between two sides. If we were to choose sides, then we would be more two teams of two instead of one team of four, and that wouldn't accomplish very much."

For once Stephon seemed to have a point. For a second, Maric had to admit he'd forgotten about the prophecy. The bout of forgetfulness wasn't without reason: even a man with a completely one track mind would be in danger of forgetting his initial goal in a situation as tense as the one Maric had just witnessed. It was true, just as Stephon said, that if the four of them wanted to get anything accomplished, they would have to work as one unit, or at least stop trying to kill each other.

"So... So what do you want us to do?" Maric asked, his voice sounding far more confrontational than he'd intended it to.

"I-..." Stephon looked hesitantly at the three commoners who now stood, watching him expectantly. "I don't know." He admitted, looking slightly aggravated. " Look we've waisted enough time already. We have to move fast to make up for lost time." With that he turned briskly, and began to make his way back to the main path, and signaled for the others to follow suit. Looking to the tree choked sky swiftly he noted the sun's position, now beginning to drop out of the sky, and casting long shadows upon the land. "We'll make camp in a few hours, there's no use trying to navigate the forest at night. At this rate we'll be lucky to make it in three days, so we'll have to cut our rations a bit. Mage, how much food do we have on hand?"

Stephon turned to face Maric expectantly, and the red mage in turn paled slightly, realizing that the pack he'd been given to hold the supplied in question was still sitting somewhere on the main path. _This is _not _going to go over well. _He noted mentally, his mouth suddenly rather dry.

"Well?" Stephon urged him, looking annoyed.

"U-um... well... y-you see..." Maric began, taking a few steps back. "When... when you attacked me on the path I... well... the.. the bag was heavy, and not good to fight with so I... well.. I..."

Stephon's face paled, all at once looking very blank, and frightening. He looked wide eyed to the direction the path was in, and then back to Maric, who was dreading the man's reaction.

For a second the swordsman looked about ready to strike him, his face now growing very, very red. "You idiot." He hissed, turning at once and bolting through the brush as fast as the uneven, bramble covered ground would allow him to, and the three others followed suit. The four exploded onto the path, looking around in search of the pack that Maric had dropped, and disdain clouded their hearts as they realized no bag was to be found.

Instead the four were met with a far less welcome sight. Forest imps, what seemed to be dozens of them, all scampering about in their dirty loincloths, snooping about in hopes of getting a bit of treasure to hoard away. Maric's heart sank. _I'm not going to heard the end of this. _He realized, cursing his luck.

"Curse it all!" Stephon cried, looking at the hoard of imps. "All to the bowels of hell, curse our rotten luck." He turned to Maric, and in a quiet, dangerous voice continued. "And we have one little mage boy to thank for all of this, don't we?" He drew his sword, and Maric stepped back, suddenly shaking, one trembling hand reaching for his rapier, and knowing it would do little to defend him.

To Maric's relief, Stephon gave one last grunt in disgust, and then turned on the imp hoard. "Alright men, let's see how you do in battle." He cried, letting fourth a piercing battle cry as he lunged head on at the hoard, in one swing of his sword cleaving the heads of about five or six imps in one blow. The group closed in on him, clubs and knives brandished in their hands they struck at his legs and his feet, slashing in a frenzy to try and break him down, but their attacks did little to phase the knight. His sword sliced through head after head, and stomach after stomach leaving cleaved appendages and near to indistinguishable entrails strewn across the grass. Their dark brownish blood already stained Stephon's sword, as well as some of his clothes and his hands to some extent, and Maric forced himself to look away, at the moment feeling rather ill.

A sharp stab of pain flying through one of Maric's legs drew his attention away from the swordsman, as he realized he had his own group of imps to deal with. Turning he found the culprit imp looking rather pleased with itself as it retrieved it's dagger from Maric's bleeding thigh, only to thrust it back in just as hard in another spot. Immediately the red mage retaliated with a slash of his own sword, effectively cutting the imp's neck half way through, so that it stumbled back, dark brown blood irrupting from it's half severed head.

Out of instinct Maric crouched down to nurse the wound he'd received, and attempting to pull out the small dagger that was now lodged in his leg. For a he moment forgot the even closing circle of imps that was upon him, and he paled as he realized his fatal error. _You never get down level with imps. _He reminded himself, though not attempting to right the wrong move he'd made. _That gives them a clear shot at your vitals. Give them that chance and... _A jolt of pain to the middle of his upper back served as a painful reminder of his error, and at once a heavy weight on his shoulders pulled him backwards so that he found himself falling to the ground. Small wrinkled hands pinned his arms and legs to the ground, rendering his sword useless. He batted and swept his sword at the group but to no avail, nothing seemed to work to drive off the crowd, and Maric found himself pinned to the ground by what seemed to be a thousand little arms, and even more seemed to be intent on gaining some kind of footing upon Maric's now grounded body. The little jolts of daggers were pricking him everywhere: in the sides, in the arms, the neck, and back, the sides of his face. He tried to roll over trying to protect his vitals, but the hands kept him planted. His hands were pinned to his sides now, so he could do nothing to bat the little devils away, or to protect his face from their cruel blows. He struggled and writhed, trying to pull himself free of the hateful hands, but his movements did little to stop the imps. _ How could I be so stupid? _ He scolded himself. _I need to get out of here now, who knows how long it will be before one of those little devils strikes something vital?_

"H-help!" Maric cried now, trying to sit up only to be pulled back down with twice the force. "Help me, someone help me!" In a frenzy he struggled harder than ever now, but his fits did nothing to stop the imps. They were on top of him now, slashing away at his legs, abdomen, chest, and head, and their girmey imp feet digging into his stomach, and his neck painfully. It was getting hard to breathe, and with the blood that spilled down the sides of his arms, and his legs, and trickled down from parts of his now exposed chest, he knew soon it would become difficult to stay alert as well. He knew he would surely bleed to death even if none of his vitals were struck.

"Help!" He cried once again, his voice suddenly sounding very small, and weak. "Help! Please, someone! Anyone!"

Out of nowhere there was a sudden stir in the air, and three or four imps suddenly fell dead around Maric. There was an upset in the crowd of imps, as an air of panic and confusion set in, and they let go of Maric who immediately sat up, breathing hard, and at once regaining control of his sword, swinging his sword around to catch a good number of the imps around him. A strong arm reached down and seized Maric by the shoulder, yanking him to his feet.

"Do you know how to fight at all?" Stephon's bewildered voice asked looking at Maric half in surprise and half in disgust. " _Never _get down to their level. Never, that is, unless you really _want_ to die."

Another hoard of imps interrupted him, and Maric was drawn away as well by the fight. There were a significantly smaller number of imps to fight now, and as Maric took another imp out with a blow to the head, his rapier piercing through the skull, in between the eyes. He swung his sword around to catch about three more on his blade, though receiving a few more blows to the inside of the legs. His blows, however, still seemed to do little to aid Maric in ridding himself of the forest imps. Maric recoiled. _What do I do? _He wondered._ My blade is doing nothing to get these imps away from me, there has to be some other way to kill them. _As another imp jumped up to stab him in the back of the leg, Maric reeled around, stabbing it through the middle, and at once an idea struck Maric. _Magic, of course! _Backing up slightly, Maric closed his eyes letting his surroundings melt into nothingness, ignoring the points of pain that irrupted as knives tore into his skin. Chanting as quickly as possible he tried his best to keep himself devoid of any hint of fear, or uncertainty. The spell was ready faster than Maric had expected it to be, but faster, in this case, was better. All he would need was an initial blast to kill the imps, not a lasting flame. "_Fire_" Maric spoke the trigger word for the spell, opening his eyes just in time to see the forest imps around him irrupt into flames, dying cries sounding around him, and the smell of burning flesh floating in the air. Now all the imps around him lay dead, and for the moment, he was safe.

He looked around now, eying the battlefield, and looking to the other two Light Warriors. Celeste seemed to be fine, slashing her way through the group of imps with ease, never flinching for a second as knives and clubs cut into her bare legs.

Shane on the other hand was a different story. The black mage was now pressed up against a large tree, a circle of imps crowding around him, hacking away at the mage's legs and arms, and beginning to latch onto his body. He was making few attempts to fight back, clutching his weapon close to his body, and shutting his eyes tightly. Maric noticed one thing wrong at once: Shane's weapon. He had recalled seeing Shane carrying a knife with him to defend himself previously, but what he was equipped with now was not a knife but a wooden staff, that was long and blunt as opposed to short and sharp. _He probably doesn't know how to use that._ He thought, rushing to the mage's aid. _He can't last too much longer like that. Maybe it was really forest imps that nearly killed him before, if this is how he handles them._

Maric lunged at a small group of the imps that were circling around the black mage, sticking his sword through a good three or four of them at a time. Shane looked up now, his eyes falling upon Maric with a look of relief.

"You! What are you doing?" Stephon was looking in their direction again, and immediately Shane stiffened up. " Defend yourself mage, cast something!"

"I-I can't." Shane replied softly, still looking rather scared, and now, seeming a little embarrassed.

"What do you mean you can't?" Stephon asked. "Of course you can. Just do your funny little magic thing and cast!"

"No, I.. I can't." Shane repeated. "I.. I've never been able to cast anything more complicated than a sleep spell successfully."

Maric paled, wondering how the other two light warriors would react to his statement. The two of them had feared him simply because of his magic, but now that they knew he was helpless, his dangerous aura was now gone.

"Are... are you serious?" Stephon asked, his eyes going wide in surprise and disbelief. "You can't do magic?"

Shane shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sir Carris." He cried, looking rather embarrassed.

"So, you're a mage who can't do magic?" Stephon said thoughtfully, looking a bit amused, as he idly cut the head off of another imp. "I know I should be surprised, but it just fits into the context of the situation so well.. so very well. This team is amazing. Warriors of Light... at this rate I'm sure we'll be able to defeat Garland. Mage who can't do magic.. maybe if we're lucky Garland will take one look at us and die of laughter."

Shane lowered his head in shame, paying little heed to the imp that was presently sticking a knife into his calf.

"Shane, try to use that staff like a club." Maric instructed him, taking the head off another imp. " You'll be able to kill more imps that way."

Shane looked up at him, and nodded, taking his staff in two hands and bringing it down on an imp's head. The imp faltered, swaying to the side slightly before falling dead. His hands tightened, and he looked slightly satisfied as he saw the imp fall, and he proceeded to swing away violently, beating away imps in a frenzy. Maric assisted the boy, cutting through imps left and right, and at last the last imp fell dead. The two turned to face their other two comrades, looking exhausted and bettered, but satisfied. Stephon approached Maric, thrusting a large heavy bag into his arms.

"This time don't loose it." He instructed him, and at once he turned to face the three other light warriors. For a second, it looked as if he had something more to say, but at length he merely shook his head.

"Come on men." He said softly, looking over his shoulder at the three of them. "Forward march."

They obeyed in silence, and Maric felt slightly degraded from Stephon's sour expression. _He did save my life._ Maric reminded himself. _I'd be dead if it wasn't for him._

He looked around, the blueish tint on the land seeming to give the world a chilling, unfriendly feel. Around them the forest was still and silent, almost unnaturally so for a forest at night, so much so that Maric almost longed for some kind of sound to reach his ears. All at once, he was surprised to find that one did, and he spun around to find an imp, one lone imp, limping away into the forest, looking rather injured. Maric froze, his heart racing as he saw the imp disappear into the forest, the hair on the back on his neck prickling slightly. _ Oh that isn't good. _ Maric thought, watching the forest around him in utmost fear. _ If one of them gets away, they'll get the entire nest after us, and judging by the amount of imps that they were able to send as scouts, there must be hundreds of imps in the colony._

"What's wrong now?" Stephon turned to Maric, looking impatient. "Haven't you stalled our progress enough already?"

"One of the imps got away." Maric murmured, drawing his sword cautiously.

"Is that all?" Stephon dismissed him, rolling his eyes "You don't have to kill all of them, you know. What could one imp do?"

"Y-yes but..." Maric looked around, struggling to explain to the skeptical looking swordsman, but as the forest around them began to rumble and shake with activity, the situation was made clear in an instant to all four of the warriors.

A what seemed to be a thousand imp heads suddenly appeared from seemingly out of the woodwork, ranging back for miles, all looking rather agitated, and ready to fight. They all held knives and clubs and they were all advancing of the four slowly.

Stephon took a few steps back, looking rather pale. "Oh ye merciful gods..." Stephon whispered, backing up.

"What?" Celeste turned to Stephon, looking bewildered. "They're just imps, it can't be that bad."

Stephon shook his head. "There has to be over five hundred of them. Even if we were all skilled fighters, we could never stand up to that kind of power. One Hundred imps to one man, no, more than one hundred imps to one man. How do those odds sound?" He looked to the three of them, his mind working swiftly now. "When I give the word we run like mad, you hear me?"

The three nodded, clutching their weapons tensely as they backed up, moving slowly so as to not move the imps to attack. All at once Stephon looked behind them and hissed. "Run!"

At once the four took off in a frenzy running as fast as their legs could carry them, and the imps took off after them. They darted off the path, trying to lead them astray and confuse them, but the hoard never strayed from their trail, not only following successfully, but drawing closer with every step they took. Maric looked back, his heart pounding as he realized that the mountainous wall of imps was closing in on him, and as they went over fallen trees and under groping bows, Maric could feel fatigue gripping at him, not only from the wounds he'd sustained all over his body that were still aching and smarting, but also from the large heavy pack that he carried on his back. _At this rate they'll catch us._ He thought frantically. _We're done for._

"Maric!" Shane looked back to the red mage, looking at first frantic, but his expression changed to one of determination as he eyed the wall of imps, and at once he stopped short, facing the hoard.

"Shane, keep going." Maric cried, trying to pull him along. "Don't stop, you can't fight them on your own."

Shane payed him no heed, his eyes suddenly soft and far away, and faintly he could hear him chanting the ancient magic words to a sleep spell. _He's going to try to cast. _ Maric thought. _Is he crazy?_

"Shane you have to keep going!" Maric cried, again tugging at him. He looked down to the imp hoard that was currently advancing on them, and felt his knees go weak.

"What's wrong with you two?" Celeste and Stephon were far ahead of them now, looking back at them with fearful expressions on their faces "Keep running. Do you two both have a death wish?"

"He... He won't move." Maric cried back, trying again to move the planted mage.

"Leave him! We can do without a mage who can't do magic." Stephon cried. At once he halted his progress forward and began making his way back to where Maric stood grabbing him forcefully and pulling him along. "Come on, we can't help it if the kid is crazy."

"_Sleep!" _ Shane's shrill voice echoed strong throughout the forest as a sudden stall came upon the hoard. A good number of the outer layer of imps suddenly fell forward, all asleep for the moment, and about a hundred of their number fell dormant. Maric smiled, laughing slightly.

"He did it!" Maric cried, looking back to the little mage. "He got them!"

"Keep going, there's still too many to fight!" Stephon commanded him, his iron grip on Maric's wrist forcing him along.

Maric's heart sank as a second layer of imps began to rise over the first, going just as fast as the first had gone, and closing in quickly upon the lone black mage that now stood in front of them. Shane turned now, scrambling forward to try to outrun the crowd but, in his haste he stumbled over a tree root and fell heavily to the ground. He had just about enough time to look up before he was wholly swallowed up by the stampede.

"Shane!" Maric cried, watching in horror as the black mage was engulfed by the army of imps.

"Maric! Maric!" Shane's shrill cries was still audible from the crowd of imps. "Maric help! Help me!"

"Shane!" Maric cried again, at once drawing his sword and attempting to wrench himself free of Stephon's grip. "Let go of me! I have to go back for him! Shane hold on!"

"Are you insane?" Stephon cried. "He's as good as dead!"

"I won't leave him." Maric breathed, looking at the ever advancing imp hoard. He shrugged himself out of the supply pack, handing it to Stephon. "I can't leave him! I'm going back for him!"

Stephon sighed, letting go of his wrist. "Fine, go get yourself killed." He dismissed him, and at once bolted away, leaving Maric to stare down the imp army.

_He's right, _ Maric thought, looking at the stampeding imp throng. _ This is insane... but I'll never be able to live this moment down if he dies. _He shook his head. _ Shane took a stand for himself, and he bought us some time, but his life doesn't deserve to be waisted. This will just be the fourth or fifth time I've risked my life to save this kid. No big deal, right?_

Drawing his sword he rushed head long into the imp wall, swinging his sword wildly, a battle cry irrupting from his lungs as he tore through the crowd, searching for Shane's form. It was madness in there, imps were darting every which way around Maric, and he could barely move at all, as the dreadful creatures latched onto his arms, his legs, and pulled back on his cape. _ How am I supposed to find him now? _He wondered, looking around. _I_ _can't help him if I can't move. _

"Shane!" He called helplessly as he weight of the imps dragged him down, forcing him to his knees. "Shane answer me! Where are you?"

He swung his sword again staggering to his feet and taking a few heavy steps. "Sh-Shane!" He cried again, his voice beginning to lose it's volume. At last he was beginning to succumb to the weight and the attacks of the imps. He couldn't move any more, and was forced to his knees again, his hands now supporting the rest of his weight on the ground . "Shane don't let me have come in here for naught... Shane where.. where are you?"

At once his cries were answered, but not with the black mage's friendly voice. Instead, he at last managed to spot the boy's limp form among the imp bodies, his lavender blue robes standing out among the scrambling monsters.

"Shane!" Maric cried, making his way over to the boy. His body was battered, and both of his robes had been torn into quite a bit, and were stained crimson with blood. "Shane?" He stooped down to shake the boy, but he made no movement to respond.

A new wave of imps began running for Maric now and he swiftly pulled his sword, cutting the heads off the imps that were swarming around Shane's limp form, and some of the others that were beginning to advance on him. At once he threw himself over the mage, using his body to shield the boy from any additional blows. _This is really insane. _He thought as the imps began to swarm over his own body now, again pinning his arms to the ground. _Now I'm going to die here too.. unless. _ He readied a second spell, trying to concentrate the best he could in the present situation. This time, he would need the flame of a fire spell to last a long time so he was forced to focus more on the words he was speaking, that way the spell would come out just right. The imps were crawling all over him now, cutting away at any exposed flesh they could find and at last Maric looked up, screaming the spell trigger. "_Fire!_"At once an inferno irrupted around the two of them, scorching the imps around them and blowing back a number of others who were caught just outside the ring of fire. The flames caught onto the ground and the nearby brush, creating a wall of fire that would last for long enough for them to escape. Now all they would have to worry about were the imps in front of them. Unfortunately for Maric, that was still a decent amount of imps to deal with, and feeling battered and dizzy from blood loss, and over use of mana Maric could barely manage to stand on his own. Another bunch of imps turned on him, and began to latch onto him, and Maric fell forward, now not even attempting to fight back. His chest was heaving and though the attacks of the imps came in a steady, constant, almost rhythmic pulse, every blow held just as much fire as the last. His vision was blurring now, and he just barely could see Shane lying beside him, unmoving, and, to Maric's despair, being completely ignored by the imp stampede. _I'm sorry Shane. I really am. I tried to save you, but I wasn't good enough. Rachen, I'm.. I'm sorry I failed you too. I promised you I'd help you, but, I can't now. _ He let himself lay limp, now not even trying to fight off the imps.

All at once a good ten of the imps suddenly fell dead around Maric, and another twenty went into a frenzy leaving Maric to suddenly begin running frantically in every direction.

"Mage! Are you alright?" Stephon's voice tore through the crowd of imps, and to Maric, sounded more welcome than it ever had before.

"St-Stephon?" Maric looked up wearily at the warrior who's outstretched hand caught onto his wrist, and pulled him to his feet.

"Get that half-mage over there." Stephon commanded him. "Is he still alive? Can you carry him?"

"Who, Shane?" Maric asked. "He's.. I think he's still alive but.. I... but..."

Stephon already had slung Shane over his shoulder by the time Maric had begun his response. "Come on, mage, you have to run!" And Maric nodded, following him towards the approximate end of the imp crowd. Stephon's sword swung violently around, slashing through imp after imp, clearing a path for them effectively. At last they cleared the crowd of imps and Stephon took off in a mad dash into the forest. Maric followed as closely as he could, stumbling slightly as he did.

"How long do we have to keep this up?" Maric asked, looking back at the imp hoard wearily. He wasn't quite sure how long he could keep running, and his legs seemed to be turning into jelly.

"Just keep going. " Stephon cried. He looked around frantically. "We need some kind of diversion." He muttered. " But what can we...?"

At once the two Light Warriors caught a glimpse of Celeste at the bottom of a nearby depression in the land, motioning for them to jump down to the lower level. The two of them exchanged glances, both knowing fully what the other intended on doing.

"We jump when I give the signal." Stephon commanded him.

Maric looked at Stephon wearily, shaking his head slightly. "We jump now." Maric replied, at once flinging himself over the edge of the upper path, and began to fall swiftly to the ground below. Immediately that action was followed by a muffled thud, and a new wave of pain shooting through Maric's body. For a second he just let his body rest there, not daring to move, exhaustion gripping his every limb in it's acidic clutches.

He looked up just in time to catch Stephon leaping like a cougar from the upper level down to the lower, landing deftly on his feet on the ground below with Shane still cradled safely in his arms. _Show-off _ Maric degraded him silently.

Stephon sighed with relief, setting Shane down on the forest floor next to him, and promptly collapsing onto the leaf cushioned forest floor.

For a second the two of them lay silent, panting hard from the amount of running they'd done in such a short time, both utterly exhausted. Maric's heart was pounding hard and fast, feeling as if it was presently lodged in his throat. The trees above seemed to be dancing and swirling before his eyes, their purple and blue tinted branches all blending in together. Already Maric felt just about ready to drift off into a well needed slumber, hoping to forget, if only for a short while, the constant aching and smarting wounds that now covered his body from head to toe.

"You're really crazy," Celeste ridiculed Stephon at length, "you all are, all three of you."

"I'm crazy?" Stephon exclaimed, sounding a little offended. "You think I'm crazy? It was these two who decided to try to get themselves killed."

"I didn't say they weren't." Celeste pointed out. "I'm just saying you're just as bad. I can't believe you went through all that just to save those two mages."

"I can't believe I'm still alive." Stephon commented, sounding a little winded. "Really, I can't believe we're all still alive. The 'red' mage took a beating in there, and half-mage..." He trailed off, and Maric just about managed to roll over to look on at the three other warriors of light.

Stephon and Celeste were now bent over Shane's still body, their expressions bordering on that of concern.

_Shane!_ Maric's heart gave a small leap as he remembered his small companion, who was still lying on the ground, still and silent and looking worse off as each second passed. Maric struggled to his knees, his thoroughly battered body protesting his every move as he made his way over to the little mage, fearing the worst.

"Is... is he..?" Celeste spoke hesitantly, looking from Maric to Stephon nervously.

Stephon shook his head. "He's alive." He stated confidently. " Trust me, he kicked me a few times on the way down here. I'm not sure how he'll fare in the morning, but for right now, he's alive at the very least." He turned to Maric. "Mage can you cast some kind of healing spell on him?"

"I.. I can't do any more magic today." Maric replied meekly. "I'm out of mana."

"What do you mean?" Stephon questioned him. "You're a mage, you said you could use healing spells."

"I can only use so much magic in a day." Maric replied. "Right now, I'm at about three spells a day. It'll get better as I get more skilled in magic but..."

"Oh you have to be kidding me." Stephon huffed. "First the mage that can't do magic now we have a cap on how much you can use. Are all mages this useless?" There was a short silence, as Maric suddenly found himself lacking the strength to try and argue with the Cornerian. "Well... you'd better work fast on half-mage then. He's alive for now, but who know how much longer."

Maric's heart beat a mile a minute as he regarded Shane's unconscious form. Stephon was right, Shane was indeed alive, and though he lay about as limp and motionless as a rag doll, though he was still breathing and every so often would shift slightly. It wasn't the question of whether or not the boy was alive that worried him now, but whether or not he would make it through the night. His body was covered with deep, criss-crossing gashes that were all bleeding profusely. Now even the second robe tat Maric had given him was torn to shreds, and the one he wore underneath that was probably little more than strips of blue cloth now. It was hard to look at the boy like that, his usually present, large orb like eyes, engulfed within the shadow of his mage's hat, and his delicate, fragile body battered and broken and even though Maric was completely exhausted himself, he knew he couldn't rest until he knew Shane was going to be alright.

Slowly Maric made his way over to the supply bag that Celeste had apparently been carrying. He dug through it swiftly, tossing potion flasks, blankets and other provisions aside until he grasped a plume of Phoenix down. He made no hesitation in turning around and immediately practically throwing the scarlet colored feather upon the black mage's body, and waiting for a reaction. Just like before, the feather began glowing, a blue white light irrupting from the it as it spread across the fringes of the otherwise dark forest, shedding light into the shadowed areas around them. At last the light began to die down, slowly decaying into a flicker, and finally leaving the four figures shrouded in the shadows of the night. For a moment more there was silence.

"Shane?" He shook the boy slightly, hoping to at least make the boy stir. Maric's voice was rough, and weak now, barely recognizable even to himself, but at the moment, his own state of being was barely a problem. What was, was that Shane wasn't waking up, or showing any sign of improving in condition. _I practically sent this kid to his death. There could have been other ways to escape from prison, we could have made it out. I just got too caught up with this stupid quest. What was I thinking? I knew he couldn't fight, why did I have to try and pull him out here?_"Shane are you alright? Can you hear me? Shane, look at me. Get up. Open your eyes."

"Calm down, boy." Stephon's strong hand on his shoulder pried Maric away from his unconscious companion and flung him to the ground. The wounds on his arms are back smarted from the sharp contact with the forest floor and Maric winced slightly.

"You and half-mage are in bad enough shape as it is." He continued. "You don't need to make matters worse."

"He's... he's not waking up..." Maric protested feebly, but his exhausted limbs would no longer allow him to move, much less fight against Stephon in any way. "I... I have to..."

"Hey, I... I think he's alright." Celeste's voice cut in, though she didn't seem exactly relieved. Maric, however, felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Shane was alive, so he hadn't succeeded in sending the little black mage to his death, and thus, his conscience would stay clean.

Celeste took a couple of quick steps back, as Shane slowly regained consciousness, sitting up straight despite the injuries he'd sustained. He looked rather confused now, regarding the three other warriors cautiously. "What happened?" He asked at length in a rather dazed sounding voice.

"What happened?" Stephon echoed him, looking at him with his features contorted half in anger and half in utter amazement. "What happened? You nearly got us all killed, that's what happened. Do you every use your brain, boy? Do you?"

Maric winced slightly. _We really don't need any of this at this point. Shane's been through enough already, he doesn't need to add this to his list of worries._ He moved to protest against Stephon again, but fatigue held him down, and rendered him unable to do anything.

"What do you mean?" Shane's voice was still slightly listless, and now sounded very confused as well.

"You know well enough what I mean." Stephon accused him, only to go on to explain. "Trying to stand up to that hoard of imps like that... you're a mage that can't do magic, do you really think you could take them all on at once? There were over one hundred of them for every one of us, you could barely manage ten on your own. Then the red mage over there tries to go in there and pull you out, and he gets mauled too, and the next thing you know I'm risking my life to save your ruddy necks. You could've gotten all three of us killed."

Shane was silent for a moment. "I... I'm sorry, Sir Carris I..." His voice had suddenly grown very quiet, and his shoulders slumped in shame and defeat. "I didn't mean to..."

"You're sorry?" Stephon echoed, only seeming to become more enraged by Shane's reaction. "You nearly wiped out three of four warriors of light with that move. You're sorry, I'm sure you are. What were you thinking, boy?"

"I'm sorry, Sir Carris, I really am." Shane replied again, seeming to slump back further and further as Stephon verbally beat the poor boy into the ground. "I just... I wanted to help. I don't want to be useless to you."

"Learn some magic, then you'll be useful." Stephon dismissed him. "Until then you can be 'useful' by not getting in my way."

"Haven't you picked him apart enough for one day?" Maric butted in. He could barely stand to listen to the Cornerian knight as he slowly broke down Shane's every flaw. His limbs ached in protest at his movements, but he ignored them for the moment. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't attacked me."

"I attacked you?" Stephon exclaimed, whirling around, and almost immediately forgetting about Shane. "Mage, you had it coming. You're lucky I spared your life."

"You didn't spare my life, Shane's the one who stopped you from killing me." Maric pointed out, and with that felt the arm that had been propping him up slip from beneath him and send him plummeting to the ground once again.

There was a tense, uneasy silence once more. Stephon frowned slightly, propping himself up against a nearby tree and reaching over to grab a potion bottle, and began swirling the light blue, slightly foggy liquid around inside, seeming a little uncomfortable.

"Yes, that's right, isn't it?" He said at length, his voice was far away and thoughtful, and his eyes focused still of the swirling contents of the potion bottle. "I was going to kill you, but I didn't. In the end, I ended up accomplishing the exact opposite in saving your life. Ironic." He smirked, looking back at Maric now, who was just about as confused as he was exhausted now. "Think nothing of it, mage, I was just feeling a little... agitated, that's all." With that closing sentiment he uncorked the potion bottle, draining it's contents.

"So you just as soon save my life as stick me with a sword, depending on your mood?" Celeste interpreted, seeming a little concerned. "Not exactly what I'd call good leadership if you ask me."

"Yes and what do you make of it?" Stephon questioned, seeming more apathetic than anything. "You're alive for now, aren't you? What else matters?

"The assurance that I'll be able to sleep easy tonight without having to worry about waking up with a slit throat for one." The thief girl mumbled uneasily.

"M-Maric, are you okay?" Maric at once left off listening in on Stephon and Celeste to see Shane hovering over him, looking slightly worried.

"'M fine." Maric grunted in reply, of course lying. He felt far from fine, with an assortment of gashes still bleeding rather profusely through his overcoat.

"Are you sure?" Shane asked, obviously he didn't believe him for a second. Reaching back quickly he grabbed a potion and thrust it at Maric. "Here, I've already had one. It'll help."

"I know it'll help, I've taken potions before." Maric mumbled, accepting the bottle, and draining it quickly.

"Are you...are you mad at me?" Shane asked hesitantly. His question was juvenile, almost childish, but then again, he was still a child, and obviously still had the mentality of one as well.

"No, not at you." Maric murmured. The potion was already beginning to work it's magic, as a cool, pleasant feeling began to work it's way through Maric's body, making his entire body begin to feel numb, and heavy.

"Why not?" Shane questioned further, his voice strangely casual. "I nearly got you killed for the fourth time in two days."

"Doesn't make a difference." Maric went on, his voice was soft, and he felt almost like he was more talking to himself than the little black mage who was perching beside him. "I'm not mad at you."

"Then who are you..." Shane began again, only to be suddenly interrupted by Stephon's unnecessarily loud voice.

"I don't care what any of you think of me, especially you, you lowly filth." his voice boomed, and Maric rolled his eyes. "I will have order and balance in this team or so help me ye gods."

"You can have your order to yourself." Celeste replied coolly. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm not going to take my eyes off of you until I know you aren't awake when I'm not."

"So what now, do you think I'm going to slit your throats in the night, is that it?" The Cornerian asked, his voice mocking. "Need I to inform you that I am a knight of Corneria, not some petty thief like yourself. I think I demonstrated well enough that if I wanted to murder you all I could do it in plain sight."

"Well then why haven't you?" Celeste shot back, fire burning in her eyes. "If you hate us all so much, if you really think we're all that lowly, and you really think that the Light Warrior quest a fabrication from a half sane red mage's mind, then why, oh why on Gaia do you insist on keeping us alive?"

There was a heavy silence, and Maric felt his spell casting companion cringe slightly at the prolonged mention of death. Stephon shifted uneasily, his facial features contorting slightly in a mixture of anger, and what may have been guilt. For a second, Stephon was speechless, every so often opening his mouth as if to reply, and subsequentially shutting it to rethink his words.

"You wouldn't though." Shane spoke up at last, addressing Stephon meekly, the way a child would approach a king. "I-I mean...you.. you aren't really going to try to... I mean... you said we worked better as a team than divided, right? You don't want to kill us."

"Besides. It would be three on one." Maric backed the black mage up as best he could. "We could just as easily destroy you if we wanted to."

Stephon's face went solemn again, for a split second seeming almost afraid, before regaining his pompous air. "Are you trying to threaten me, mage?" He asked, at once attempting to reestablish his controlling aura.

"Maybe I am." Maric replied. Inwardly, he cringed as soon as he uttered the challenge, knowing that nothing good would come of this.

For a moment, the competitive, challenging air sparked up in Stephon, and he rose slightly, his eyes lighting up with the thrill of battle, but soon the notion faded, and his eyes softened slightly. "You're right." He murmured at length, smiling wryly as if the very idea was completely ludicrous.

"I am?" Maric's initial reaction to the Knight's confession was one of awe. "I-I mean, of course I am."

Stephon turned to look at him, still fingering the empty potion bottle he held carefully. "Yes..." He began again, in an almost pensive voice. "Three against one, the odds are clearly against me, no matter how horrible you all are as fighters. Even though you all are terrible when it comes to swordsmanship, I would ultimately fall, perhaps taking one or two of you with me but for what cause? And in that respect I am the one at the greatest disadvantage. You and Half-Mage have each other, I'm guessing you two are on friendly terms, and you, Celeste, though you may hate the two mage's you've been paired up with, you still have one thing in common with them. You hate me, and your life is in danger because of me. When it all boils down, if I were to disappear from the picture, you would all be free to go, and of what consequence would it be? None to you, you would have your freedom back, no strings attached."

"So, if you were moved to do so, and had the right opportunity you would kill us all if doing so wouldn't endanger your life?" Celeste interpreted, leaning back casually. Stephon faltered slightly.

"Ah.. No, "Stephon replied at length. "Our circumstances wouldn't allow it. Being this far out into the woods it would be suicide to try to make it alone. I can handle a good number of forest imps on my own, but we all saw today what can happen when too many are encountered at a time. Had it not been for a stroke of mere luck, even the four of us would have been lost to them. Strength lies in numbers, and trust me, I intend to keep them as high as humanly possible at this stage in time. Besides, we still have to kill Garland."

Silence set in once again over the four Light Warriors. By now their surroundings were blanketed by a curtain of darkness, and the trees above them stirred quietly with the chirping of nightly creatures, humming peaceful low tunes. As the tension felt between the four slowly began to quell, the four began to settle down drowsily, preparing for rest. Maric looked over the other three warriors. He had to admit, this hadn't been exactly as he'd expected it to be, if this quest was truly the beginning of the Light Warrior quest at all. It was obvious that if they were going to be the team to restore the crystals, the road to accomplish such a task would be long and hard, but none the less, there was a glimmer of hope, that seemed to linger over the group. A slight chance that this group would succeed.

"H-hey Stephon, one more thing." Maric addressed, the Cornerian knight. He had to admit speaking the knight's name in such a conversational manner felt awkward on his lips.

Stephon turned, looking only half annoyed to have his thoughts of sleep interrupted. "Hmm?" He grunted.

"Err..." Maric faltered slightly, suddenly feeling even more awkward to be addressing the man in this way. At length he gestured to Shane, who was presently resting his head gently against Maric's shoulder, his hat tilted slightly sideways so as to make the position possible. "Half-mage?"

"Oh, that, " Stephon laughed slightly. "It's a nickname Celeste came up with.. well kind of anyway. When you two got nearly trampled by the imp crowd, she referred to you two as 'Mage, and Half-mage' and the name stuck. You see, because he's a mage that can't do magic..."

Maric didn't know whether to take offense at the slightly degrading nickname that had been bestowed upon his young companion, or just to laugh at how ridiculous it was. In the end, the latter triumphed, though for good measure, he added a sentiment. "That's really cruel, you know."

Stephon looked from the red mage to the sleeping half-mage on his shoulder. "I don't think he minds."

_**Soo, what awaits the Warriors of Light when the morning breaks? Will they manage to clear the Cornerian forest without killing each other? Will Surfingpichu actually update in a reasonable amount of time this time? Stay tuned to find out. Same Fic place. Same Fic time.**_

_**(Wewt on being the millionth writer to use a batman-esque closing! Rate and review people! It won't actually make me write any faster, but it will make me happy on the inside!)**_

_**Surfingpichu over and out.**_


	11. Chapter 10: Of Being a Light Warrior

_**Hi everyone, Surfingpichu here! I think the wait's been long enough his time around, and I've finally got a new chapter up, though..err... unfortunately unbetaed. Ah... what to write here..**_

_**Well A Happy Halloween, and All Souls Day to those who celebrate it. I've become accustomed to updating on holidays anymore. Strange.**_

_**Eh.. it isn't like anyone actually reads this part of the chapter anyway, I mean... I could launch into a page and a half rant on why the book Twilight sucks (which it does) and nobody would bother to read it. Or maybe just my saying that Twilight sucks had made you all look up here. Hi everyone! I actually write things up here! Or perhaps I'm simply alienating a good half of my audience by saying this and they will all click off in a rage anyway. In which case I say "Don't leave!! Come back! I have cookies! Also review."**_

_**Ah but I kid. Now that I've figured out how to use the auto reply button in the review box, I no longer have to respond to reviews here, but I can say, thanks to Emperor Zoron, Toxo, and Zippy Zipper (who's fic I will get around to R&Ring eventually) for reviewing and being awesome. Cookies are in order I think.**_

_**Chapter 10: Of being a Light Warrior**_

In the wooded confines of a thick hollow lay a place that Tori Vartle liked to call home. Home not as in an actual house with a fireplace brimming with a warm glow, and a bed over in one corner decorated with whatever she saw fit, and a window that looked out upon a wide expanse of land out yonder. This home, beheld by any other man, mortal and mage alike, would be seen as nothing more than a lonely little hollow in the middle of the vast wood, secluded and eerie, and unnaturally silent in comparison to the rest of the forest that was usually brimming with life. Instead, the one black mage girl saw the hollow as a place of peace and solitude, where one can think and ponder and dream without the interruptions of the cruel busy world outside. There had only been one other person on earth who truly could see this place the way Tori saw it: as a home. Unfortunately he was dead, so now Tori sat alone to dream singular thoughts.

The girl hummed a peaceful tune as she sat, having lost the words to the passing of time. It was a nice day, cool, serene, peaceful, warm enough for the middle of autumn. It was quiet too, it had been quiet for the last three days now, not that she really minded. In fact, the change was almost welcome, or it would be until she got bored at any rate. In truth she was surprised. She had thought she'd miss her little playmate more than this when he was gone, without his idle chatter to fill the silence, and allow her to listen, only half paying attention half of the time. She'd imagined that she would find the hollow empty, and suddenly far larger, but it had stayed the same size, and really the same as she remembered it.

"Tori?" A low male voice coming from just outside the hollow made the black mage girl jump considerably. _Odd. _ She thought, turning towards the small, fir branch covered entrance to the hollow. _ I didn't think anyone else knew about this place. This was supposed to be our secret spot. Or rather, my secret spot._

"Who's there?" Tori called back. "I thought I made it perfectly clear I didn't want to be followed. Now state your reason for being here or I may be moved to fry you where you stand."

"Victoria Vartle you will come out of there at once." The voice came again. Tori felt herself blush slightly. She hadn't planned on the owner of that voice being that high of rank, or in that foul a mood.

"Sorry Clayton." She apologized, her voice suddenly quite a bit less forceful. "Though... I'd prefer it if you came in."

"You know we're in a state of emergency, Tori. You're supposed to stay with the group." The older mage scolded, entering the hollow awkwardly, trying not to let the fir branches spring back and hit him as he stumbled in. "You don't get any special privileges for being my little sister."

"State of emergency." She echoed scornfully. " What State of Emergency? You already chased down Tellerman and put him out, and you took out Cyrus and Taylor in their sleep. Anyone who might have been subject to even thinking of leaving or betraying the Brotherhood, or anyone in our group for that matter, is out of the picture. I don't see what you're so worried about."

As Clayton righted himself he stood looking down at his younger sister, his eyes narrowing slightly out of scorn. "Tori, you aren't supposed to be hatless either." He scolded mildly.

"You're just jealous because I found out how to dispell my hat spell before you did." The girl accused her brother playfully, a smile curving upon her lips, and wide brown eyes crinkling with mirth.

"You know for every hour you sit like that you're knocking a day off your life." Clayton reprimanded. Though he was a strong leader, Tori had to admit he could be a bit of a nag, and often, a little too overbearing, almost to the point when his presence became annoying.

"That isn't true." The black mage girl replied. "You know that's a myth. As long as I'm not using magic nothing is going to happen.. That's been proven before."

A hatless mage wasn't a sight often beheld by most men, mage or nonmage. The exact reason for a black mage's need to cover his face was a tale that had been twisted over the passage of time. Most believed the idea that the hat spell retards the effects of magic overuse, meaning that not only would it make it so that a black mage could expend more energies on magic without taking frequent rests, but would also slow down the accelerated aging process that extended and constant use of black magic often brought about. What the correlation between the outward physical effects of the hats spell, and it's alleged effects on magic usage was, was still a mystery. Some people said it was because the man who came up with the spell was notably ugly, even for a mage, and combined the two spells simply because it would be easier to cast one complex spell, than two simple spells, and would use up less mana. Others believed the entire idea was a load of imp droppings, and Tori made up part of the group that believed thus.

"Anyway, Clay, you know there's nothing to worry about." Tori picked up from where she'd left off. "Come on now, you know Taylor was never in his right mind. Even from the start he was always just a tad off, and Cyrus was never a problem in the beginning. He was too quiet, he barely uttered two words the entire time he was here, how could he get anyone to listen to him if he never spoke."

"I'm not worried about either of them." Clayton replied, his eyes narrowing in a scowl. "They're dead, it's Tellerman I'm worried about."

"Oh, what now does hunting someone down and beating him to death after hitting him with enough spells to make Merlin's head spin not count as dead?" Tori asked coolly. "Or is it that you have to slit someone's throat in the night for it to count now?"

"Tori we were very humane about taking care of all three of them, and you know that." Clayton snapped, his eyes softening slightly when he saw Tori's slightly sullen demeanor . When met with no reply he went on. "Tori it's been three days and no-one's found the body anywhere. The boys knew where they left it, in a clearing some two miles from camp, now it's gone. No trace of it ever being there either, so it's not like the kid could have crawled away, or was dragged away. There would be some kind of trail to follow if that had happened"

There was a tense silence, and Tori still made no reply. She had to admit, sometimes talking about the boy's death in detail made her feel a little uneasy. Otherwise she felt fine, but at times she couldn't help feeling bad for the boy.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Tori asked, still retaining a bit of frost in her voice.

"Actually, it's about Tellerman." Clayton admitted, sounding a little guilty for bringing the topic up again. "You were the closest to him of all of us. If anyone around here knows what happened and how he escaped, you would, or at least how he could have."

"I think I made it clear enough that he isn't coming back." The girl replied flatly. "He's dead, Clayton, I can't tell you how he could have survived because he couldn't. From what I heard about the situation he used up any options of defense in the first couple of minutes of the struggle. I'm sure he tried to put up a fight but... Clayton the only spell he knew was a sleep spell, I really don't see how he could be dangerous. I think you're over reacting, just because one mage supposedly got away..."

"One mage could bring about our end if we aren't careful." Clayton snapped. "There are people out there who would give an arm and a leg to know how we work in here, to get even just a peak at our father's work. You know the best way to come up with a plan to combat a force is to know how that force acts itself, and if someone figures out how to combat us, then what happens? We all die. If Tellerman really is still out there... he doesn't know how much damage he could do."

"But since he's dead , he can't do any damage." Tori finished for her brother. "So therefore we are in no immediate danger."

"You can't assume that." Clayton stated for the umpteenth time. "We're going in circles Tori. I need you to tell me the truth."

"You don't believe me?" Tori exclaimed, feeling rather hurt. It was sad to think her own brother didn't trust her.

"I think you're saying what you want me to believe." Clayton persisted. "You're trying to spare your friend, you two were friends, right? An amiable attempt at least."

"More allies than friends." The mage girl corrected her brother, not quite knowing how to treat the endearing, familiar term. "And no, if I believed he could be alive I would tell you, I assure you, and at the same time..." She paused, taking care to choose her words wisely. "I.... I assure you if anyone threatened harm to the Brotherhood, personal feelings would be put aside. There's too much at risk for a human heart to interfere with now."

"You want to believe that."

"I assure you I don't." Tori was beginning to raise her voice now. "You have no idea how much I wish I could trust my own heart. But life doesn't work that way, does it? You can't trust anyone, including yourself, can you?"

There was another short silence.

"No..." Clayton agreed, his voice suddenly soft and thoughtful. Tori never quiet liked that voice. "No you can't, can you?" He paused again, turning as what Tori thought to be a smirk grew on his shadowed face. "Tori I want you back with the group within an hour. There are still some... things I want to discuss with you." With that he left, never turning around to see his sister's reaction.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You know... I'd really love to believe that this could have all been avoided." Stephon announced, looking from warrior to warrior with a look of mixed hate and exasperation as each was pulled from a well-needed slumber. "I really would, but no... you know what... it couldn't. It couldn't because some vengeful god has some kind of grudge against me and has landed me with you three."

"You know, you could have been keeping guard yourself." Maric, the supposed 'red mage' chirped in defense of the three warriors.

"Well maybe if you hadn't worn me down trying to save your ruddy necks I would have been able to," the warrior pointed out. "But no... no you had to try to be heroes, didn't you. You know, fighting the imp hoard."

"Stephon this isn't the time." Celeste cut the knight off abruptly. "This is more the time to protect your body than your ego."

As much as Stephon hated to admit it, the thief girl was very much correct, and as he viewed the foes that now surrounded him, he knew this situation wouldn't be an easy one to get out of.

The four of them were almost completely surrounded by a pack of rather hungry looking wolves, each with golden yellow slightly luminous eyes that were narrowed into slits, and froth dripping at their mouthes as they eyed their prey. In terms of appearance, they were almost as unsettling to look at as a black mage. Almost, anyway. Sometime between when the four light warriors had fallen asleep and this early hour in the morning, the pack of wolves had stumbled across their slumbering group and taken the time to descend upon them. It had been lucky that Celeste was a relatively light sleeper, and had woken up upon feeling an oversized paw prodding at her side. In this case, Celeste had virtually saved them all from a very untimely demise since Stephon knew he'd have slept right through the attack, and he was sure Maric could sleep through a hurricane, judging on how long it took them to get the useless lout to wake up.

"Really we shouldn't have that much to worry about." The aforementioned useless lout commented. "Wolves usually prefer small game and imps to human flesh. They're probably just here because they smelled the meat we brought with us."

"They don't exactly look friendly, mage." Celeste muttered, as one of the rather hungry looking animals drew closer to Celeste, growling softly. "I don't think they're too picky about what they eat... or kill."

For the moment, conversation stopped as the four warriors looked on upon their enemies, half fearful, and half just tired.

"Don't make any sudden movements just yet." Stephon hissed. "Don't scare them, they're more intelligent than imps, but they'll still attack at the drop of a hat. Half-Mage I want you starting a sleep spell. At least we all know you can do that."

"Who me?" Shane looked quizzically up at the knight.

"Yes you, I don't see any other half-mages here. Don't interrupt me." Stephon continued. "Red mage, I want you to ready a fire spell and cast it on my sword, and start another one after that to drive them away. After that I want you healing. Thief girl, you just wait until I give the signal, and aim for the head and the throat. Eyes and ears are also vulnerable, but don't attack head on."

There was no reply. Either Stephon's fellow warriors were too tired to reply, or were so preoccupied by the pack of wolves that now surrounded them they didn't really care enough to respond. Stephon was content with either. For a second all was quiet. The two mages had begun to chant two different spells, each in a low, dull monotone voice that over lapped into a dim buzz of noise. Stephon felt a cold chill rush down his back. In all honesty, he found the process of spell casting a little too eerie for his tastes. From what Stephon could discern a good half of the process involved putting ones self into a trance like state, and chanting a long string of nonsense words that for some reason made fire appear out of thin air. In truth the very idea was ridiculous, but for one reason or another, it worked, and if it would drive off a bunch of wolves in this case, so be it.

"_Fire!"_ Maric finished his spell first and, as planned, enveloped Stephon's sword in a circle of flame. To his surprise, the flame stayed wrapped around his blade like a sheathe, and didn't threaten to stray or catch on anything else. _Maybe I can get used to this magic thing..._ Stephon thought, eying his slightly upgraded weapon contently for a second before signaling to the rest of the group.

"Attack! Now!" Stephon shouted, launching out at the pack of wolves. He sited out one, swinging low at it with his sword. It was a rather clumsy maneuver, but it gave the desired effect as the fur of the beast ignited. The creature leaped a good few feet, yelping in pain and terror, running back through the pack, and burning a few of it's mates as well. Quickly the knight descended upon them as well, hacking one's head off while effectively scorching, though unfortunately not killing the other.

"_Sleep!"_ The other mage let off his spell, an enchanting mist flowing over the herd of beasts, and effectively lulled a good half of them to sleep. Celeste promptly descended upon one, jamming a dagger into it's throat while fighting to fend off another conscious beast.

Maric and Shane seemed to have gotten into a habit of fighting together, Maric readying another spell while Shane was distracting the wolves with his staff, attempting to hit the beasts over the head with it, though this ended badly when one of them latched onto the oversized stick and refused to let go leaving poor Half-Mage completely defenseless. Luckily Maric was a swift spellcaster and managed to scorch the wolves that had promptly ganged up on the black mage causing a good three of them to fall dead.

Stephon was met with his own slew of problems now that the conscious wolves had separated themselves from the ones that had succumbed to Shane's sleep spell. He was surrounded, and faced the creatures three to one, all of which appeared to be quite a lot heavier and stronger than Stephon was, and unfortunately, the effects of Maric's fire spell had died down, leaving Stephon with a plain, no longer on fire, steel sword in his hands. In this case he knew that the minute one of them pounced on him he was as good as dead. It was up to him to make sure none of them got that chance. He eyes his opponents carefully.

There was one wolf that was quite a lot bigger than the rest. The leader perhaps. Did wolves even have leaders? He would have to guess that if they did, this one would be it. It was large, muscular, and viscous looking. Obviously not one to be fooled with, and not the one Stephon would want digging it's claws into his back. He turned to this alpha male, at once lunging at it with his sword aloft, catching the beast right under the neck with his sword. The creature reared onto it's back legs, yelping more in rage than in pain, and promptly descended upon Stephon. It threw it's wounded body at Stephon before he could recover backwards, knocking him over and digging it's claws into Stephon's sides, though being stopped by chain mail. Despite all this, the knight was sure to keep a good handle on his sword. The sword was his only lifeline, without it, he was useless in battle. With one hand he fought to secure himself on the ground so that the wolf didn't get him onto his back. If that was the case he would be through. Instead, he stayed on his side, to the side of the wolf. He was beneath it, but not pinned to the ground, or held there by any force, and thus had free movement of his arms. He didn't waste a second at that point, his choice of action was clear, he stuck his sword up into the wolf's breast without thinking twice about it. The creature reared slightly giving a short howl before falling over limp, either dead or dying presently.

At once Stephon felt a sharp jolt hit him squarely on the back of his head, sending him reeling and for a moment leaving him completely disoriented. Down at a wolf's level, even as a swordsman of his caliber, he was easy prey for the beasts, and Stephon was sure that the huge dogs themselves were fully aware of this as the two remaining hounds Stephon had neglected now charged at him simultaneously. For a moment, only a moment, Stephon panicked, knowing he would have trouble trying to fend off one wolf at a time, let alone two, but at once he collected his thoughts. _ They all have a weak spot. Their faces are vulnerable._ _They may be smarter than imps but they're still animals. If they take me as a threat they'll run, and best way to threaten them is to cause enough damage to make them wary._

Lurching forwards Stephon met their attack head on, swinging his sword and creating a large gash in the head of one of the creatures, while using his free hand and feet to try to fend off the other. The first wolf reared back in pain, wounded but still alive, and fairly angry, but Stephon was left in no position to defend himself from the remaining beast and his attempts to attack the other wolf were met with the swipe of a claw filled paw to the face. He was thrown back, the back of his head colliding with the root of a tree as a starburst of light flooded his vision for a split second. For a second, the swordsman was dazed, only a second later feeling a white hot burst of pain irrupting from the side of his face. With his free hand he clutched the three fresh gash marks that were now indented upon his cheek, blood seeping profusely from the wounds, and his hand doing relatively nothing to stop it, nor did the choice works he found himself shouting a moment later. The pain was utterly crippling, blinding and white hot, worse than fire as far as Stephon could judge.

All at once Stephon found himself rather helpless, all because of one blow that in all honesty wasn't really all that crippling at all, just utterly painful. What was worse the two were closing in on him again, and in his trying to cope with the three newly made gashes in his face, suddenly found it rather difficult to think. They were closing in slowly now, thinking they'd won. _Now's my chance to attack. _ Stephon thought almost grinning as he righted himself into a semi upright position. It would be a gamble, but if he could time his attack correctly, one sweep could catch both wolves of guard, and if luck was with him, catch one or both across the eyes leaving it utterly crippled. They were closing in now, and his window of opportunity was slowly closing. It had to be now. It had to be...

"_Fire!_" At once the sound of a spell trigger being cried rang out loud and clear, but to Stephon's surprise, the spell's name didn't match up to the voice that was uttering it. It wasn't Maric, the slightly more learned mage that the trigger word sounded so natural on the lips of. This voice was a little higher, cracking slightly from being at the peak of pubescence, and Stephon turned to see Shane, stretching his arms to the sky with magical power practically brimming around him. _Funny._ Stephon thought. _ I thought Half-Mage said he couldn't use fire spells._

What resulted almost immediately afterwards Stephon knew he would have trouble putting into words. There was a sudden surge of smoke, not fire, but simply a large cloud of thick black, nearly greenish smoke that irrupted around that part of the forest, and rendered their already fairly dark surroundings pitch back, and making the air rather heavy and thick with what Stephon conceived to be ash. This lingered for a second or two before a wave of heat burst fourth from the center of the cloud, which also happened to be where Shane was standing, and then nothing. Not a plume of fire, or even a small spark of flame and Stephon found himself staggering about helplessly trying to find his way out of the inky darkness while choking on the heavy air.

At once Stephon felt himself bump up against a solid object in the darkness, and promptly a rather feminine scream pierced through the dark cloud. At once he felt a slight bump as a knife hit his armor with a loud clang, and he stumbled back from the force, his foot catching upon what appeared to be a dead wolf's body which in turn sent him tumbling to the ground. The figure lurched forward, following his movements, swinging the same knife again in the air, searching for the spot where Stephon had once stood.

"Celeste! Stop, it's me!" The knight cried, a little shaken by the entire affair.

A few large gusts of wind had caused the smoke to begin to fade now, and in the light of the moon Stephon could see Celeste's form standing above him looking bewildered.

"Stephon?" Celeste spoke his name cautiously. "Don't sneak up on me like that. You're lucky you're wearing armor."

The thief girl reached down, offering him a hand to help him up. He hesitated slightly, not quite knowing how to take the nearly friendly gesture from someone who obviously wasn't a friend. At last he accepted, righting himself quickly. As he rose to her level Celeste took a moment to look him over, her brow furrowing slightly as she did. Subconsciously, he raised a hand to his cheek where three, now soot encrusted gash marks still lingered, realizing at once the reason for her quizzical stare.

"Well, what happened to you?" Celeste asked, her mouth pulling into a half amused smirk.

Stephon turned his head as if to try to mask the three large gashes from the thief girl's sight. " You're not one to talk." He dismissed her, looking the thief girl over a bit. "You don't look that great yourself."

His words were true, even if they really were just to turn attention away from his wounds for a second. The thief girl was in a rather sorry state herself, this was plainly visible even under her soot covered exterior, her tunic had been shredded all down the back exposing a couple of thick gashes in her back that appeared to have just stopped bleeding. Her arms and legs were covered in marks from claws and teeth and one hand had a considerable number of bite marks wrapping around the lower wrist, and blood was cascading down her hand freely. _This must be worthy of a story and a half. _ Stephon thought, looking her over. She looked more like she'd just been through a war than simply having a small struggle with a couple of over sized dogs.

"Hey, are you two alright?" Maric's voice cut through the wall of still rather smoky darkness, and at once the battered figures of the two mages came limping out arm in arm, the question of who was supporting who being a mystery in itself. Maric looked slightly better than Celeste, though he appeared to be nursing a rather messy wound to the leg which appeared to be hindering his ability to walk. Stephon was sure he would hear enough griping about that for long enough before the day was through. Shane, of course, was a mess, as usual, and at this point it was impossible to tell which wounds were fresh and which weren't. As the two approached the black mage's footing suddenly slipped, and the two tumbled to the ground in a heap. Stephon shook his head. _This team just keeps looking better doesn't it?_ He sighed mentally.

"You shouldn't be the ones asking that." Celeste commented, making her way over to the two of them. She as well was walking with a hobble. Stephon suddenly found himself feeling quite lucky, being the least battered of all of them thanks to heavy armor. "What happened to you?"

"We had a bit of a run in with some of the wolves." Maric explained. "Everything was going fine until one of the other wolves woke up. I guess I wasn't paying attention and kicked one of them in the head, because the next thing I knew there were four of them circling the two of us. Things... didn't end well. Our last resort was to have Shane try a fire spell, since I was a little well... occupied at the time... but...err..." Shane began to lower his head in embarrassment. It was obvious the spell hadn't turned out the way he had planned.

"Well it did some good." Stephon pointed out as he joined the group of Light warriors. "At least it drove the wolves away." The black mage's eyes seemed to light up a little, literally and figuratively, at Stephon's words. It was true, the spell's misfire has caused such a strange sensation that it had frightened the poor beasts out of their minds, and they fled without thinking twice. "Just... don't do it again..."

"He-... he'll get it soon enough." The red mage again stepped in to defend his younger accomplice. "He just overshot the spell, thats all. I think he just needs to get a feel for how much mana to use, then everything should go smoothly."

"I didn't ask you." Stephon grunted. "Honestly, the sooner you leave that boy to his own devices the sooner he'll start fighting on his own."

There was another tense silence as the four went back to tending their newly received battle wounds, each downing a potion to try to make the pain go away and ensure their ability to make yet another trek through the Cornerian forest. Hopefully they would clear it by midday, and be on to reach the edge of the marshland that would follow by nightfall. Of course, after yesterday's events Stephon was sure the distance they would cover in reality would be much less than he had hoped.

Now that the potion's magic was working most of the pain from the wounds he'd sustained were going away, and had now stopped threatening to start bleeding again. The uncomfortable churning in his now thoroughly empty stomach however, did not. _That's right._ He sighed. _None of us have eaten since yesterday morning. I suppose you can't just live on potions, no matter how economical that would be._

Groping through the dark Stephon's hand found the supply bag, which he promptly tore into_. _He felt through a layer of about nine or ten potions before reaching the more edible portions of what they'd brought. Basically rations would consisted of a salted red meat that Stephon didn't care to identify, and a type of hard biscuit that was just about as flavorful as it was filling, and neither aspect was stellar in that sense, but of course, in the wilderness you would take any food you could get. It was obvious that after the wolf attack no-one would be ready to go back to sleep, so their best choice of action would be to get a head start on the day ahead.

"You, start a fire going." Stephon gestured to Maric, looking about the camp. "We're going to start today early, after we all eat and rest up a little. I'm assuming you're all rested enough to make the journey."

He sifted through a few potion bottles idly tossing the empty ones aside. He counted about ten or twelve left now, at the rate they were going that would last them three battles. Either their red mage would have to start coming through on his promise of being able to use curative magic, or they would all have to improve their fighting styles very soon. _We only need to survive like this for two more days. _ Stephon reminded himself, looking upon his team of misfit fighters._ Two more days, and once I see the princess freed I'll wash my hands of these 'warriors of light'. I'll be deemed a hero, and from then on will have earned my rightful place as king as well as showing my strength and ability to defend the kingdom, and will have rid the kingdom of three criminals at the same time. Simple, and effective._

It was strange. Sitting around the fire at around what Stephon presumed we three o'clock in the morning really didn't make the knight feel quite as agitated as he thought he should felt. In fact, he found that he really didn't mind, even given the fact that he was in the company of two mages and thief.

"Well... I'm guessing we've learned something from tonight." Stephon announced to no-one in particular. "From now on we'll have to have at least one person awake while the rest of us sleep to guard camp. We'll break it into shifts, so that two people trade off at midnight. That should work for now."

Stephon looked up, expecting to get at least some half grumbled criticism of his idea, but strangely he was met with none. Presumably the other warriors were either still half asleep, or already exhausted from the fight, and unable to process the information fully. Stephon would admit, the silence was a little awkward, but it was comfortable. It was nice to be given some time to think, and to be away from the utterly grating voices of the three youths he had been coupled with.

This seemed to be the case with Stephon's three companions as well, as none of them appeared to be paying attention to the world around them in the dead of night. The thief girl had her back to the group and was sitting a few meters away from the rest of them, looking almost isolated. Her knees were pulled up against her chest as she sat, as she stared off into the dark dreary forest about them. Maric and Shane were still together, the red mage gazing intensely into the fire though his eyes were far away, and worried. Half-mage however was leaning up against Maric's shoulder, sleeping as if he hadn't a care in the world. _Well.. that makes one of us at least._

At once his brother's words came rushing back to Stephon, making his stomach turn slightly. _They'll make you think you're safe around them, that they'd never dream of harming you. Then the next thing you know you're dead. _ His voice still seemed fresh and lively in his mind. This innocence he was seeing in the three warriors was exactly what Talon had warned him about. They would put up this facade for as long as they needed to until they could strike, Stephon just had to make sure he struck before they did, but of course, he had to be tactical. If even one got away that could spell out disaster in the future. If any one of them got away it would be possible, no probable, that the lone warrior would sneak up on Stephon during the night and slit his throat, no matter which one it was. Even Shane the half mage seemed to have at least some blood lust in him, probably far more than he let on, and even Maric would be dangerous in the night. 

_No. _ Stephon shook his head of the thought. _These warriors must preserve until Sara has been freed. _ As much as it pained him to admit it, Stephon knew he wouldn't stand a chance against Garland alone. If only to have a couple of bodies to stand behind, having some men behind him would guarantee him a much better chance of emerging victorious. _ Then Sara and I will return to Corneria, unbothered by the likes of mages and thieves. If any of them survive our duel with Garland, I can pick them off later that night, and then that will be all. All my worries will be over._

Along with the chirping of various bugs and the viscous crackle of the fire, there was relatively no sound, and for that Stephon was glad. Glad, however, until the silence was broken, ever so slightly, by a light bouncy melody that out of nowhere arose out of the night air. It was hummed, not sung, and it carried a very peculiar tune that hopped up and down the scale in a rather strange manner, most definitely different from any tune Stephon had ever heard. The tune was coming roughly from the direction of the two mages, and since Half-Mage was still asleep the offender obviously had to be Maric the red mage who had presently leaned back, looking quite a lot less anxious than before, and indeed was nodding his head along with the strange tune.

Stephon exchanged a rather confused look with Celeste, who raised an eye brow and shrugged. She was the first to speak. "What on Gaia are you doing?"

"What?" the red mage left off humming to face her. "Now do you hate music too?"

"N-no." The thief girl replied hesitantly. "I.. just.. oh never mind."

The red mage went back to humming, and admittedly, Stephon found he didn't mind it as much as he had previously. It wasn't a bad melody, just a little strange, and it was sort of soothing to hear some friendly sound in the otherwise cold and isolated wood. The red mage obviously didn't do the song justice. It seemed to require at least full command of one octave to sing, something Stephon, in his brief run in with the horrible bore that is music lessons, had never accomplished, and obviously, Maric hadn't either. Every so often the mage would either switch octaves when a part of the song got too high,or skip past parts altogether, but even so, having a little white noise was nice.

The sun was beginning to rise now, soon enough they would be able to start off on their journey, as soon as it was light enough to see anyway. Shane had woken up now, the faint glow that now radiated from the mage's eyes showed that clearly enough. Celeste had retreated back into her little bubble, nibbling at the end of a piece of salted meat as she did and looking rather grateful for the meal.

Stephon let himself lay up against a nearby tree, suddenly not feeling hungry, though taking a hard biscuit for himself anyway. If he lost his strength during a fight their little team was all but finished, not that it would matter much. He figured as long as he was out here, he would have to take all measures to ensure he stayed very much alive. He let himself soften a little now, being either on his guard or fighting for almost a day now had begun to take it's tole, and the warrior now found that he was quite exhausted himself. He wasn't as sore as he'd been previously, several potions had made sure of that, instead he just felt worn. Worn down and tired, so early in the running too, he was almost afraid to know how he would fare when they reached the temple of fiends.

Again the red mage's humming began to penetrate his mind, this time he nearly found himself singing the tune himself._ Blast it, I'm never going to get that song out of my head now. _He thought groaning. _I'll travel home singing it now. Even when that boy is dead he'll still haunt me._

What was worse the song had stopped seeming unfamiliar, though he still hadn't the faintest idea of where he'd heard it from. It was probably a drunkard's song, as the lyrics made just as little sense as the melody did. _"The wood has swallowed up the moon, the fog has swallowed up the shore, the green toad has swallowed the key to my door."_

"Sir, are you feeling alright?" Stephon blinked, realizing at once that a pair of floating yellow orbs were now hovering over him, far too close for comfort at that. He gave a strangled cry falling back, his heart leaping into his throat, and his hand flying to his belt. He only just stopped himself from drawing his sword on the boy, fearing what reaction he would draw from the other two Light Warriors.

"D-don't do that!" Stephon cried trying to regain his composure as quickly as possible.

"I-I'm sorry sir." The mage apologized, stumbling back a bit himself, obviously startled by Stephon's outcry. "I didn't mean to.. I ... I just thought..." He trailed off, waiting a few seconds as if to get his thoughts in order. He looked at the knight again with a sideways glance. "You look really pale." He commented at length.

Stephon looked up at the boy, glaring at him and drumming his fingers impatiently. "What do you want?"

"N-nothing, sir." The boy excused himself, retreating back to his position on the other side of the campfire. "Nothing at all. I didn't mean to disturb you, sir, honest!"

Stephon sighed, rolling his eyes at length. _I really wish he would stop taking all this so seriously._ He thought. He knew it was probably a good thing that the boy was responding to his role as leader so well and in any other case it would put him at ease, but he knew if he was just using this as a mask to disguise the fact that he was plotting against him, which it most likely was, he was simply overdoing the part, and making a fool of himself. _After all,_ Stephon thought. _It doesn't really matter how horrible an actor he is, I'm just going to kill him anyway._

"Alright men, kill the fire." Stephon commanded at once, shaking the thought from his mind. Their priority had to be reaching the temple of the fiends as quickly as possible. The longer they wasted time out here, the less likely it would be to find princess Sara alive and well "It's light enough to march, let's start while the day is young. Thief girl's first."

The thief girl righted herself, glaring at Stephon coldly for really no apparent reason. It wasn't that she had no reason to hold hostility toward him, she most certainly did, but why the resentment now? At last the reason dawned on him. He rolled his eyes.

"Or rather, _Celeste _goes first." He corrected himself, drawing out the girl's name to an obnoxious length, and being sure to clearly show his annoyance. "Then red mage and half-mage. Let's move men."

Grumbling slightly the other three light warriors got to their feet, obeying Stephon's orders without too much hesitation. The fire was smothered with dirt, Maric donned the supply pack, and the four of them started a slow paced march. Perhaps more staggering forward than marching, but at least they were moving somewhere.

Stephon hung back, his hand wrapped cautiously around his sword, partially in fear of meeting the pack of wolves again, and partially in preparation to defend himself should the three other light warriors decide to unleash some sort of attack against him. _ This is ridiculous. _ Silently, Stephon ridiculed himself, though still looking rather warily out at the other three warriors. _If they were going to try to kill me they would have done so as soon as we left Corneria. At this point I think it's clear enough that I'll keep my head for the moment._

Much to his dismay Stephon found that his hand was still wrapped tightly around his sword, and his nerves were still about as tightly wound as a springboard, his head turning at even slight snapping of a twig or rustle of the leaves. His sword was always seconds away from being pulled on any and every disturbance they came across. This day was going to be a long one, a very long one.

Again a branch snapped behind them, and for a second, Stephon couldn't help stopping, if only for a second, to listen. There was another rustle, and before he knew what he was doing, Stephon had spun around jumping backwards with his sword drawn, colliding with Shane as he did who promptly cried out on his own, jumping about a foot in the air before taking refuge behind Maric.

"What's going on?" Celeste's voice sounded fairly worried as she whipped around to see what had prompted the sudden outburst.

Stephon looked about now, his gaze swinging from side to side, but the forest, however dark and dangerous, was otherwise very calm, and tranquil, and a slight faint buzzing noise was ringing in his ears now, head head beginning to pound..

"I.." Stephon began, his face beginning to redden as he searched for the proper explanation for his outburst. He couldn't simply say _"Oh yes, I'm just paranoid and thought I heard something but in reality it was probably just the wind."_ How could he? Then they would all just think he was mad, and if they weren't already plotting against him, they would be very soon. _Maybe I am going mad._ He thought sourly.

"We're being followed." Stephon announced at once, making up for his short pause with all the more intense certainty.

Shane, who was already hiding behind Maric and looking rather startled, seemed to grow even more frightened as Stephon said this, and for a second the knight feared that the young mage would faint. He was sure at least that he had never seen anyone's eyes grow quite as wide as the half-mage's did in those seconds, before Maric stepped in with another _brilliant_ recovery.

"What?"

"We're being followed." Stephon repeated. "It's probably those wolves from before. Nothing to worry about, we'll take them the way we took them before. There should be less this time anyway."

"You mean by nearly getting killed?" Celeste offered.

"No, I.." Stephon stopped, frowning. They did practically get mauled by the wolves before. Defeating them again after a day of walking would be easier said than done. "Just.. no. Be quiet, I didn't say you could stop for a break."

At once the world began to look a little hazy, colors that had once been vibrant reds, oranges and greens were turning dull and gray, and though the sun was high by now, the shadows looked deep and menacing. _That can't be right._ The knight blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his mind, which at the moment was pounding with a vicious headache. He looked up. Already the other three warriors had begun to trek onwards, leaving him behind. Working quickly Stephon took a few quick strides in attempt to catch up with the warriors. They were going rather slow, and catching up shouldn't have been very hard, but at the moment, his legs were starting to feel like they were full of lead. It was true running in full armor and chain wasn't a particularly easy feat, but being a knight for quite a few years now, he had gotten used to the extra weight and could work around it well enough, most of the time. Now, however, he could feel the extra fifty or so pounds of weight beginning to weigh on his limbs, making it harder and harder to move. By the time he'd caught up with the group he was panting like a dog.

"Try to keep up, Stephon." Celeste chided from the front of the line. "You don't want to get caught by whatever's following us do you?" She giggled.

_She thinks I'm mad too. _Stephon concluded. _They all do, and now they think I'm a weak old fool too. They're all younger than I am, practically children, they think I'm just an old nut, don't they?_

"Be... be quiet wench..." Stephon replied gruffly. "Turn around."

The two mages were also turned around now, as far as Stephon could tell they both looked rather inquisitive. Stephon met their stares with a cold glare. Of all things he didn't want their sympathy. Sympathy for the loon that was trying to be their commander.

"Sir Carris, are you...?"

"I said turn around!"

They obeyed reluctantly, exchanging nervous glances with one another before Maric gave a shrug and turned away. Shane cast one last look at Stephon, looking him over from head to foot before reluctantly turning and starting to walk again. Stephon followed, this time even more cautious than before. Of all of them Half-Mage was the most suspicious of them all. It was possible that this idea had arisen simply because the boy looked decidedly like a demon, or something of the sort but there was something in his actions that gave his idea leverage. He was a little too jumpy, too awkward to be completely devoid of guilt, and the way he feigned such obedience to Stephon only made him more suspicious. Innocent, obedient, wouldn't dream of harming his dear leader of just about a day now. It all seemed too close to what Talon had predicted.

His inability to do magic was just icing on the cake. In all his life Stephon had never heard of such a thing, and the fact that he just conveniently knew how to pull off a sleep spell to save his hide countless times, on top of having a spell casting companion that could protect him seemed far too convenient. It all just seemed a bit too clean cut, too well planned. Something was up, and if Shane the half-mage wasn't at the middle of it Stephon was of common blood.

All of a sudden Stephon felt the ground swerve out from under him. His arms flailed out, pinwheeling at his sides, but his knees buckled inwards and he fell failing to keep his balance, he grappled at a nearby tree, hoping to break his fall, but to no avail, he met the forest floor with a light thud. He might have cried out, he never actually heard any sound escape his lips but he knew he heard the semblance of a cry echoing about the forest just after , in the end he wasn't sure what had happened exactly, and was only certain that moments later he was lying on the padded forest floor with three faces hovering over him looking worried.

"Sir Carris!" Shane was the first to cry out, looking rather frantic as he stooped down on level with the fallen warrior.

Stephon's head was pounding harder than ever now, the black mage's outburst only adding to the general discomfort. He groaned, looking blearily up at the three other light warriors._ I can't defend myself like this. _He realized at once attempting to right himself. _I can't let on that I'm not at speed. Thats the perfect chance to attack._

"Back off will you?" Stephon dismissed the three of them, rising shakily to his feet. "Haven't you ever seen someone stumble before?"

"Collapse is more like it." Maric was speaking again, now leaning up against a tree in a rather casual stance. Of all the warriors he was the one that tried Stephon's patience the most simply because he never seemed to pass up a moment to say something useless. "The world wouldn't end if we took a break you know."

"We don't need to take a break." Stephon glared at the red mage icily. "We'll take a break when I think we should. The forest's end isn't far off now, we'll rest when we... when we can...ugh.. ye gods."

At last the pounding on the inside of Stephon's head had become a full blown whirlwind. The lights, the sounds, everything just made his head hurt more. He closed his eyes, hoping that a couple of moments would calm the overwhelming pain, but relief just wouldn't seem to off someone, one of the light warriors was speaking in a slightly worried tone, though at the moment, Stephon found it impossible to attach a name to the voice of the speaker, or any meaning to the words being spoken. _ Ye gods what is wrong with me today? _ He wondered. _First I practically get mauled fighting and now this. What on Gaia is going on?_

He felt himself sliding to his knees again, knowing he was making a spectacle of himself. He could feel the eyes of the other three warriors searing into him, questioning him, mocking him silently, and strangely enough he really could feel it. He could feel it physically, in the form of three points of contact on his forehead, just beneath his sweat drenched bangs. Strangely enough they had a pressure to them, almost a pulse, and felt like tendrils pressing up against his forehead. Tendrils or... fingers. Fingers?

Stephon's eyes shot open, his gaze locking immediately upon Maric's features. Surely enough one of his hands was outstretched, his fingers resting lightly upon Stephon's forehead. His eyes were locked to the ground in concentration, his lips moving rhythmically in a magician's chant. Stephon gave a cry, not knowing what else to do, and stumbled backwards.

"What in the five hells do you think you're doing?" He cried scampering as far away from the red mage as possible.

"Healing you." Maric replied simply.

_You'd like me to think that wouldn't you?_ Stephon scowled. "Must you have your grubby hands all over me?"

"It helps to have a point of contact." Maric replied, inching closer to Stephon. "Now hold still, unless you want us to have to leave you here."

Stephon inched back again, opening his mouth to reply, but the red mage payed him no heed, instead practically lunging forward, this time grabbing the base of his forehead with his open palm, and chanting as quickly as possible. "_Cure!" _ As soon as the trigger word left his mouth a cool sensation rippled down through Stephon's body. Momentarily he felt lighter than air, and then, nothing. He felt absolutely nothing, not pain, not dizzy, not anything different. In fact, he'd admit he felt pretty good.

"There, that wasn't so bad now was it?" Maric smiled a smug little half smile, obviously contented with himself, if only for the fact that he had managed to Startle Stephon out of his wits. For a second, Stephon wasn't sure how to react.

_He... cured me? _ Stephon was amazed. _Here I was, vulnerable, they could easily have just left me for dead, and he... helps me? Why? What on Gaia could he gain by helping me? I'm the only thing keeping him, all of them, from freedom. Why didn't they try to stop him? Why didn't he just pick me off with a fire spell to the head. That was more what I was expecting. But... to heal me..._

For a second he just sat, gaping at the red mage silently, when at once another sight caught his eye, this one just out of reach, just beyond the reaches of the trees and bramble, there was a speck of light. Light meant they'd cleared the forest. Light meant they were half way there.

"Light!" Stephon couldn't help exclaiming out loud, looking past Maric now, a small smile spreading over his features.

"Oh ye gods, he's delirious. What did you do to him, mage?" Celeste was bearing down on the red mage before either he or Half Mage could even think to respond.

"No, there's... we're almost out of the forest." Slowly Stephon righted himself, never taking hiseyes off the point of light. "Look, over there you can see it."

Almost hesitantly, the three other warriors turned, looking in the direction Stephon had indicated.

"He's right." Celeste breathed, taking a few steps forward. "We're free! Finally!"

At once the thief girl took off in the direction of the light, followed closely by Maric and Shane, Stephon trailing them cautiously. They weren't exactly free, monster's were just as plentiful at the forest's edge, and there was still quite a ways to go to the temple of fiends, but at the moment, just the thoughts of reaching their first milestone, breaching the dark dreary depths of the Cornerian forest, and finally being allowed to let full sunlight wash upon their faces instead of the choked, half hearted light that filtered in through the reaches of countless tree branches, moved even Stephon to for a moment revel in their victory.

But, as hope had blossomed within the hearts of the four warriors, it just as soon as crushed, as seemingly from out of nowhere a horrible howling noise tore through the forest stopping the four warriors in their tracks. Stephon pulled his weapon cautiously, his eyes sweeping the otherwise calm looking surroundings. _ I knew I heard something before. _ He thought,

"What was that?" Either Shane was practicing the art of asking rhetorical questions or he was just about the most dim witted boy Stephon had ever laid eyes upon. Either explanation held some weight.

"I told you we were being followed." Stephon growled, ignoring the boy. A few seconds passed and no-one moved. "Well, don't just stand there, get your weapons out and get..."

A sudden jolt slamming into the knight's back prevented him from finishing his command. Taken completely by surprise by the attack Stephon could do nothing to prevent himself from tumbling to the ground, his sword flying from his grip and landing a few feet away in the brush, just about out of his reach. He could feel hot, wet breath on his neck, a low throaty growl in his ear, and as he looked up, he found the he and the other warriors were once again surrounded by what seemed to be the same pack of wolves. Celeste was fending off two at a time, trying feebly to fight them with nothing but a small dagger. Shane and Maric were nowhere to be seen, and he had no time to look for them as two other wolves walked right in his line of vision.

"Blast it." Stephon growled, struggling to lift himself from the ground, and failing because of the weight of the oversized dog on his back. Without a weapon he was completely defenseless, and being immobile at the moment, save for his arms that had luckily not been taken account of, left him at the mercy of the three wolves that now circled him.

For a second the two before him stood pacing before him as if contemplating what the most effective way of killing him would be. _ If you aren't going to move then I will. _ Stephon thought, gripping a large stone that happened to be just within his reach. Just because he lacked a sword didn't mean he was completely without means of defending himself. He lobbed the stone square at the larger wolf's head, which reared back, yelping in pain. The slighter of the two, startled by his sudden movement reared for a moment and then charged at him, the inside of the second one's mouth coming within inches of Stephon's face before he, just in time, managed to catch the foul beast's jaws with his bare hands, struggling to pry the wolf's face away from his, being careful not to let any part of his hand slip into the path of the creature's large, muscular mouth for fear of loosing a finger or two.

The third wolf, specifically the one that was currently on top of him also lunged forward, making a point of positioning one foot squarely on the back of his neck, pinning his head to the ground, not to mention embedding three sharp claws into the flesh on his neck, and sinking it's teeth into a part of his arm that lacked chain mail to protect it. Other than now being in a considerable amount of pain he now felt rather blinded as well, being unable to see what was going on since his head was pinned to the ground, though he knew being able to see what was happening would do little to help him. The third wolf was coming back now, he could hear it's growls joining in with the other two. Being rather pinned down at the moment, he knew he would be able to do nothing to defend himself against the third, on top of now doing absolutely nothing to fend off the first or second.

At once a shrill, short, yelp from the third caught the attention of both wolves that were currently atop Stephon, and the Cornerian knight as well, and for a split second all three gaped. Stephon wasn't sure whether to be relieved or even more frightened, as Celeste stood with her hand gripping the wolf's tail her knife brandished in her other hand. Immediately the wolf lunged at her, and she, never flinching, simply thrust her dagger out, catching the wolf square between the eyes. It reared in pain and was again caught in the throat by the girl's dagger. At last the beast lay limp.

Another battle cry irrupted and Stephon looked up just in time to catch Maric practically jumping over Stephon, and pulling the wolf off of him swiftly, wrenching it's teeth from his forearm as he did. The two struggled for a bit, and at last Maric was left trapped beneath the wolf that had once held Stephon down, claws digging into his chest, and his rapier flailing uselessly to the side. The other wolf was running straight for the mage. _No you don't. _ Stephon rushed after it, kicking the foul creature in the side of the head before it was in range of the red mage.

Swiftly he approached Maric, in one movement swiping the rapier from his hand and stabbing the wolf right through the middle, just missing the red mage's chest by inches, hovering menacingly over the boy's chest even as the wolf upon him died. The mage looked up at Stephon, eyes wide and thankful, and Stephon merely yanked the boy back to his feet, withdrawing the rapier he was holding and holding it out at his side.

There were even more wolves surrounding them. About five, all circling the two young men, preventing them from making any kind of escape. _ I didn't realize there were so many._ Stephon thought, looking warily at the creatures that now stalked the red mage and him like hawks, ready to swoop in for the kill. They were in a bit of a predicament, the fact that they had one weapon between the two of them didn't help, and with Maric's sub-stellar fighting skills, Stephon had a feeling that it would be more a matter him defending the red mage than the two of them fighting together.

"So, are you willing to listen to me yet, mage," Stephon whispered just about loud enough for Maric to hear him. "or are you going to try being creative again?"

"As long as you have a plan, I'll take it at this point." Maric replied, inching as far away from the large dogs as possible.

"Stay as close to me as you possibly can." Stephon whispered again. "Cast fire spells on anything you see that moves. Try to get thought the incantations as quickly as possible, I'll try to defend you as best as I can."

The red mage nodded silently, a chant ready on his lips almost immediately. Just as soon, one of the wolves lept up charging straight for Stephon, who skillfully sidestepped the blow at the last second, driving Maric's rapier into the beast's flesh. Now the other four had started charging all at once, some aiming for him, and some for the red mage who stood at his side, oblivious to exactly what was happening.

_Hurry up, boy. _ Stephon pleaded silently, as he yanked Maric out of the line of attack of one of the wolves, sacrificing time to defend himself and finding a pair of wolf jaws locked around his ankle because of it. Fortunately teeth and claws couldn't penetrate sheet metal, and with a swift move from his sword he managed to run this dog through as well. That however said nothing for the other wolf that was currently bounding full on towards him. The creature gave a leap, it's large muscular body due to slam into him at any moment, and again force him to the ground, and Stephon had no way to get out of the way in time.

"_Fire!"_ Maric's spell triggered while the wolf was still in mid air, and promptly the beast burst into flames, just in time to collide with Stephon. Having a good hundred pounds of burning dog hurled at you can be painful, and Stephon would attest to this afterwards, but in comparison to his other experiences, even in just this particular battle, it wasn't half as bad as it could have been. The beast immediately jumped off of him, yelping, and running about in a frenzy. It's two other comrades, seeing this backed away, instinctual fear in their yellow eyes. The remaining two wolves retreated, as the third one slowly died.

At once Stephon knew the battle was over. Relief, and a second later, exhaustion flooded him, as the air of battle dissipated, and the adrenaline rush that had carried him to fight wore off. He sunk to his knees, head resting lightly against an old tree beside him. His attention turned to Maric first, who was nursing a couple of claw marks on his chest and stomach with some very light white magic, apparently too worn out to cast a full cure spell.

Next Stephon noticed Celeste, who just about had managed to stagger out to join the two of them before collapsing. Her bare arms and legs were covered in claw marks, her left arm practically cascading with blood. Promptly she collapsed upon reaching the two other light warriors, wincing as bruised and battered body connected with the forest floor. She looked up grunting from the pain of the impact.

"Celeste!" Immediately Stephon found himself running towards the thief girl's battered, beaten figure, that lay now rather motionless on the forest floor. Maric wasn't far behind him, limping over to the girl as quickly as he possibly could, already scrambling to lay hands on the supply pack he'd abandoned momentarily in the heat of battle.

"Are you alright?" Stephon asked, contemplating whether or not to try and move the girl.

"Do I look alright to you?" the girl asked. Her voice was weak and hoarse but she had a wry smile on her face. "Actually it's... it's not as bad as it looks. Trust me."

"Hold your arm out for me." Maric appeared beside Stephon seemingly out of nowhere, a large white piece of cloth in one hand and a potion bottle in the other. "I'll warn you now this is probably going to hurt a bit. I would use healing magic if I could but..."

"We don't need a narrative, mage," Celeste cut him off. "just... just do what you need to."

Maric nodded, uncorking the potion bottle, and pouring a small bit of it's contents onto the cloth, immediately pressing it up against the base of the girl's shoulder. For a second the girl's face was expressionless, and all at once, her eyes went wide, welling with tears, her face going white.

"Ye merciful gods!" She cried, tearing her wounded arm away from the red mage. "What on... on Gaia are you d-... doing?"

"Potions can be applied to the surface of wounds to help them heal." Maric explained, moving back in with the now bloodsoaked cloth. Even from that small bit of contact, the girls arm appeared to have healed quite a bit. "The only problem is that it hurts like the devil."

The red mage quickly tied the cloth around the wound rather tightly, and taking the potion bottle looked at Celeste. "If you have any other..."

"Th-that's alright, I'm fine thanks." Celeste cut the healer off before he could even begin to suggest applying potion directly to any other wounds. "I think I'll stick to.. ah... drinking potions from now on, if.. if you don't mind."

She quickly snatched the half empty potion bottle from the red mage's hands, draining it of it's contents, and, throwing the empty bottle over her shoulder looked around slowly. "Ah, where'd Half-Mage get to now?"

"Shane..." Maric's face drained of color at the mention of the younger mage's name. "Ye gods, I forgot about him. I left him to... I told him to wait over... over there... Oh ye gods." He had risen to his feet again now, though doing so with a great amount of difficulty. He staggered forward a bit, looking around frantically.

_Judging by the boy's fighting skills he wouldn't last a second without Maric protecting him._ Stephon thought, looking about, a vague sinking feeling growing in his gut. At this point the only question in his mind now was why Maric was still looking, the result of leaving the boy to fend for himself was obvious, and quite frankly, Stephon didn't really want to think about how mangled the boy would be when that pack of wolves got done with him. For a few seconds there was a heavy silence, and Stephon found himself at once quite unable to speak.

"Maric..." For the first time, Celeste's voice sounded gentle when speaking the red mage's name. "Maybe you should sit down. You'll hurt yourself if you..."

"I have to find him." The mage protested, his quivering voice betraying his self assured stance. He didn't look back, as if fearing his eyes would betray him as well. "He might be hurt."

"Maric..." Celeste repeated, just as gently, almost softer this time. "Maybe you should... sit down."

There was another silence, and for a few painful moments, the red mage stood still. Stephon shook his head. _ Give up. _He willed the mage silently. _Don't do this to yourself, boy, it won't do you any good. _

"Shane?" Maric called out now, though his cries were half hearted. "Shane, can you... can you hear me? It's me, it's Maric... if you... if you can... hear me..." His voice died to nothing, hands falling slack to his sides. For a second he fell silent, continuing at last in a voice just above a whisper. "Please answer me..."

There was another silence, this one just as heavy and painful as the last two, almost more as defeat began to settle in over the otherwise victorious party. Stephon lowered him head. _ The boy couldn't fight_ He reminded himself. _ In a team like this one those who can't keep up will eventually fall. There aren't enough of us to defend a weak link. _

"Maric!" A rather far away, high pitched sounding voice at once caught the attention of all three warriors. At first Stephon had to wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him again, but as he noticed the looks of astonishment upon the other's faces, he realized what he was hearing was very much real.

"Please don't leave without me! I didn't mean to run off so far, honest!" The half-mage's figure could be seen coming through the brush now, a blade that Stephon recognized as is own trailing behind them.

"Shane!" Maric no sooner spotted the boy coming through the brush, ran as fast as his wounded body could muster, embracing the boy tightly. For a second Shane seemed honestly surprised that the red mage had reacted in such a way to his momentary disappearance. "Thank the gods you're alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?" The boy asked, Stephon imagined he was trying to portray the emotion of confusion. "I was right here the entire time. I just lost Sir Carris's sword in the brush after a bit and had to go find it."

"What did you want with Stephon's sword?" Now it was Maric's turn to look confused.

"Well I needed something to defend myself with." The little black mage replied, holding the longsword out to Stephon. "Here Sir Carris, you probably need this more than I do, I'm not very good with it."

Stephon hesitated, looking from the mage to the sword in his hands a couple of times. _That settles it. _Stephon confirmed in his mind. _That boy is hiding something._

"What are you really boy? You're no mage, that's for sure." Stephon asked, wrenching his sword out of the boy's grip. "You expect me to believe that some common mage could even so much as wield a weapon like this? To defend himself for that matter? Boy, I'm surprised you could hold the blade aloft, much less.."

"But... sir..." The mage only just managed to cut him off, his voice only just loud enough to be heard over Stephon's. "I didn't have to hold it aloft."

"What the devil did you do with it then?"Now Stephon was getting frustrated, half because the boy was making absolutely no logical sense, and half because Stephon was starting to believe him.

"I just cast sleep on the blade..." the half-mage answered, his voice quiet and uncertain. " and then I used it like a club, like Maric told me to."

Stephon was speechless. _Impossible, he couldn't have... he thought of that on his own?_ Suddenly Half-mage wasn't looking quite as dim as Stephon had thought. He lacked magical power, but he compensated for that quite well. The knight shook his head. "Unbelievable." He sighed. "Just... unbelievable".

"Come on, let's go, we should be able to make it to the marshland before nightfall. I'm just glad to see you aren't dead." Maric suddenly seemed very eager to get to the Temple of Fiends. "Ah... where's Celeste now?"

All eyes turned now to where the thief girl had once stood. Now she lay crumpled in a small heap on the forest floor. Maric approached her still form cautiously, kneeling down.

"What's wrong with her?" Stephon approached cautiously behind Maric, wondering if he should take some sort of action or not.

"She's just unconscious, nothing serious." The red mage stood, now carrying the girl in his arms. "I'd imagine she's just exhausted. It's no small wonder, we all should be."

"We'll make camp when we reach the marshlands." Stephon said. "There's going to be a field up ahead, but it won't take long to cross." The sun was just beginning to reach the hills now, they still had a good bit of daylight left. That was a good sign. "Come on, before the sun sets."

Stephon would have to admit, after so much time spent beneath a canopy of trees it felt nice to feel the sun on his face. Just that feeling of warmth on his tired body seemed to give him new strength and ambition. He could face Garland now, he would, and and after one more day's walk he would. One more day.

The timer had ticked down to two now. Two more days until the "Warriors of Light" were no more. Two more days to put up with Maric, Celeste and Half-Mage. Two more days. A knot tied itself in Stephon's stomach. _Two more days. _ He repeated mentally.

Behind him Maric and Shane stood close, Maric still carrying Celeste's unconscious form. Maric strode fairly casually save for a slight limp he'd retained from their first battle with the wolves. Despite the extra weight, and was idly rattling off a nonsense story about knights and dragons and foul beasts that could swallow all of castle Corneria in one mouthful, and still have room for seconds.A tense, nervous feeling rose in Stephon's chest. _I'm going to have to kill them._ He thought. _In two days I'm going to be forced to betray and kill them. In front of the princess no less. How would she take it? Her delicate eyes aren't used to the sight of blood and violence. After all that's happened to her, how could I commit such a brutal and violent act. She wouldn't stand for it, the girl is naïve, she would be crushed. How would she take it?_ In the back of his mind another question bubbled to the surface. _How would I take it?_

He forced the question back down. _How I would take it is a non-issue. I don't have to worry about personal feelings here. Mages are mages. Thieves are thieves. I'll kill them all with no regrets. It's my duty to the people of Corneria safe from people like this._

_People like this. What are these people like?_ Stephon would have to admit. The warriors of light acted far different than he'd expected. With mages, he'd expected more thrill from the heat of battle. Maybe to see some morbid joy while battling, some kind of bloodthirsty thrill that can only be found in watching forest imps burn alive, and Celeste... Celeste he'd expected to be more calculating, more cunning, always alert and on guard, always just waiting for the perfect moment to stab one of them in the back of the neck. Instead she just seemed annoyed, sarcastic, and maybe a little sad.

_What am I protecting the people of Corneria from?_ He wondered now. _These criminals, these... 'light warriors' aren't all that bad._

_But if they aren't corrupt then what are they hiding? _ Again Stephon's mind turned to the strange tactic Shane had used to protect himself from wolves. It was just as he'd noticed before, everything fit into place so well. Too well. The tale was so well placed, so logically crafted, it had to be a lie. How could it not? He had to have used some stronger form of magic to defend himself, how else could he have escaped. _No-one acts that calm in battle, especially not half mage. It's impossible, completely unbelievable_

_Unbelievable... _Stephon almost smiled._ And yet it makes perfect sense. Why shouldn't it? The effects of the sleep spell would be infused with the blade, much like the effects of the fire spell, at that point whether he hit with the sharp or blunt end of the sword wouldn't matter. Maybe he thought of that, he knew that, and put that theory to work. Perhaps I underestimated the boy, perhaps we all did, or, perhaps it was only me. The other mage knows, Maric, he knows all too well what his companion, his cousin, perhaps his brother, is capable of._

_He knows, but never lets on, he lets the boy keep his shroud of innocence to hide behind, while he himself hides behind ignorance. They're both against me. No, they're all against me. Surely this thief girl plays some role as well. While the other mage, Maric, plays the role of the worried companion and overseer, defending half-mage, their secret weapon, the girl, Celeste, takes the role as the adversary. The one who despises mages, and all things magic, all the while creating the illusion that the mages are trapped by the non-mages, creating a false sense of security, a sense of equality, when I in fact am horribly outnumbered. Thus far, I've been playing into their hands, and by believing the facades they've put up, up until now, I've led myself down a path of disaster. Up until now, but now that ends._

The ground had become soft now. Soft and spongy, and the sun was beginning to set, the field taking on a light golden hew. It was a wide field, but not very long, taking maybe half an hour to cross. Stopping, Stephon turned to the two mages.

"We'll set up camp here." He said. " Tomorrow we'll cross the swamp and we should reach the temple of fiends by nightfall."

Maric nodded, setting Celeste down on the swampy ground, covering her gingerly with a spare blanket that they had neglected to use yesterday. Tonight was much colder, and much damper, and though Stephon longed for a fire, he knew Maric was probably in no condition to start one.

"Do you think we'll have enough food and potions for the round trip?" Maric asked, rooting through the supply bag for a spare potion. "We're running a bit low."

"We should be fine." Stephon affirmed, mentally taking note that upon the trip back they would have less people to feed. "We could stand to go tonight without meals though. Any hope for a fire?"

Maric shook his head. "We'll have to do without tonight. I'm sorry, I'd have liked some warmth tonight as well."

Stephon nodded, and at once turned back to stare out into the distance. _Two days. _He repeated. _In two days I'll be too late. I'll admit it, if only to myself, I'm starting to feel a bit ... attached to them. Almost as if subconsciously I'm beginning to trust them, and already that trust is far too strong. There were already too many times today when I could have been killed by any one of them. They're still waiting for something. Something I can't give them the opportunity to see. I'll kill them tonight._

_Tonight._ That sounded more like it. _Yes, tonight. I don't need two mages and a thief to combat Garland. If anything I have to show my worthiness as a knight. A knight doesn't hide behind worthless tools, a Knight fights with only his only flesh and steel. Hiding behind what? Two mages and a thief? A knight shouldn't have to rely on magic. A knight shouldn't have to rely on stealth. Sheer power should be enough, and I must show that sheer power._

He looked back to the two mages, who sat side by side, and the thief girl who lay a couple of feet behind them sleeping soundly. _Tonight._ He repeated. _Tonight I clean my hands of all this hiding. I've made it this far, and now I'll do the rest on my own. Once they are asleep I'll simply take their lives and be on my way. _

"Beautiful isn't it?" Maric had left off storytelling, and now sat with Shane, gazing out into the horizon. Stephon's curiosity was piqued. _What is he talking about?_ He wondered. _They are mages. Maybe they're seeing something that I can't._ Still, Stephon approached the two.

"What are you two looking at?" Stephon asked, crouching down beside the two of them.

Maric looked a bit surprised to see Stephon suddenly so interested with their doings, but Shane replied immediately seeming unphased. "The sunset. It's really pretty at this time of year."

_Mages watch sunsets?_ Stephon wondered vaguely. Mages appreciating any form of real beauty didn't seem natural. _ They are human. I suppose it could happen._

Stephon would admit, he had to agree. It was rather good to look at, assortments of reds and oranges and pinks dancing across the skyline, fading steadily into blues and purples over in the east. He couldn't quite help sitting and watching with them.

For a few seconds they sat in silence, no-one really able to think of anything worth saying, until nothing but a faint blue outline on the horizon was left of the setting sun. Shane lay back, his amber eyes going half lit and then, disappearing altogether, his arms curling gently around his legs.

_If this is a facade it's a very good one._ Stephon thought. _It's hard to think about ending the poor boy's life when he looks so innocent. In any other situation, under any other circumstances, I wouldn't want to. I... I couldn't._

"What's bothering you now, Sir Carris?" Maric asked, his voice light hearted as he used the name Talon, and later, Shane had bestowed upon him, though not mocking as he'd have expected.

"Nothing that would be of any importance to you." Stephon replied, turning away from the red mage.

There was another silence, Maric shifting a bit uncomfortably at Stephon's cold response. Still the red mage made him wonder, he couldn't help wondering about him, about any of them, what they would say if their loyalty was questioned. Stephon knew, they must have something as trivial as that worked out, but on the off chance they hadn't. Stephon just had to try.

"Boy, why do you insist on following me?" Stephon asked at last, not turning to face the boy, but knowing the mage had turned to face him. "Of what good is it to you to continue to follow me? You've had enough chances to free yourself. Today why did you wait for me when I lost my strength instead of taking that chance to escape?"

The mage seemed to take a second to consider. "Well, you're the strongest man we have on us." He said at last. "We wouldn't stand a chance of defeating Garland without your sword."

Stephon smirked. "That's not what I meant." He shook his head, searching for a way to reword the question. "Why do you want to go into battle against the strongest knight in the kingdom, with little to no chance of actually succeeding, just to save the life of a member of royalty that you have no particular ties to."

Maric was silent again for a second, his brow wrinkling in thought. "You mean taking into account the supposed fact that the Warriors of Light prophecy was in fact just a fable?" Stephon nodded. "To save Rachen, I suppose."

Stephon paled. He'd forgotten the boy's uncle. _None of the warriors of light at this point are thought to be alive at the castle. Surely they've put the old man to death by now._

It was difficult to speak to the boy, knowing in hours, maybe minutes now, he would be dead, but by now he knew if he never at least knew a bit about the boy's motives he'd never be able to rest well at night again. The boy's strange ideas and ideals would plague his mind forever otherwise.

"Why him?" Stephon pressed on. "Why your uncle of all people?"

"He's the only person on Gaia I have left." Maric replied, a worried hint in his eyes. "Without him I... I don't know what I'd do."

"What about Half-Mage?" He motioned to the now soundly sleeping black mage beside him. Maric smirked.

"I really barely know him." Maric admitted, looking back at the boy. "He's good company, good to have around, but really the only thing I know about him is that his father knew my uncle a long time ago."

"Really?" Stephon looked from Shane to Maric a couple of times. "I'm surprised. I thought you were related. Cousins or something to that effect."

Maric shook his head. "He's just very trusting. A little too much I'll admit. I'd imagine it could get him into trouble one day... perhaps it..." He trailed off, as if rethinking his words.

"Perhaps what?" Stephon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"N-never mind." Maric covered, shaking his head. "It's... nothing important."

Again there was a silence, and now it was Stephon's turn to feel uncomfortable. _Why am I doing this?_ He wondered vaguely. _All I'm doing right now ensuring the fact that I'll feel guilty after I kill them, trying to relate to the boy at his point is useless since I'm not going to have to live with him for much longer._

"I'll..." Stephon began again, trying to hide the guilty feeling that was rising in his stomach. "Why don't you get some rest, I'll take first guard tonight, and I'll wake you for second shift."

Maric nodded, smiling a bit. "Alright," He said. "You sure you're alright for first shift?"

"Positive." Stephon replied. _I don't think I'd be able to sleep at this rate anyway._ He added in his mind. With this the red mage retreated to the side of his young companion settling down into a light slumber just as the first star's pinpoint became clear over the mountains.

Stephon lay a hand on his sheathed sword, and watched numbly as the moon showed itself from behind a misty veil of clouds. _Tomorrow I finish my journey to the temple of fiends. Alone._

_**Dun dun duuuunn. Suspense.... kind of anyway. Will Stephon go through with his plot to kill the rest of the Light Warriors? Will anyone ever figure out what the frig is up with Half-Mage? Does Stephon actually have a chance against Garland on his own. What? Why're you asking me? I don't know!**_

_**Or do I?**_

_**Yeh.. that was lame.. Oh well. A happy rather belated Halloween to all, be sure to eat lots of candy, and egg lots of houses.**_

_**Surfingpichu over and out.**_


	12. Chapter 11: No Rest for the Weary

_**Hi everyone! Merry it-isn't-actually-a-holiday! Yay**_

_**Okay, so lady procrastination has had a firm hold on my life. I blame the sims... but it's for a good reason. Probably.**_

_**Also, I wrote a random flight of fancy oneshot FFT style. I can credit that with stalling my progress by floating around in my brain until it was written. Curse you Ramza. **_

_**Okay enough of that, enjoy the fic, and : Remember those evil madponies or whatever they were in the game that could rape you if you encountered them at a bad time? Yeah...**_

_**Chapter 11: No Rest for the Weary**_

There was darkness, only darkness, forever only darkness. Loneliness, never again to hear any friendly voice, any other comforting soft voice, but the echo of his own in the night when he was sure no-one else would care to listen. That and _his _voice of course_._ Rachen referred to this man as simply _him_ because in the brief time he'd gotten to watch the man react to his peers in battle, he had never quite bothered to relate a name to his face. Now he only wished he had so that he could know which name to curse when he shouted to the echoes in the hall.

Every other day _he_ would come, the young boy, no more than a boy, no older than Maric was, but no, Maric was still young, still bright and innocent and blind to the harsh, cruel ways the world could have. This man had none of that innocence his nephew had, this man was cold, and his heart was black and icy. He was cunning, and cruel, sly with his words and ever more with his actions. The first day the boy hadn't come. Instead the other one, the blond, had come into that cell, that other cell, and taken both Maric, and young Tellerman away. The two hadn't returned since, and neither had the blond guard. All that day he'd waited for someone to come for him. To take him away to the gallows and end his sorry life like he'd presumably done for the two he called companions. They never came back for him, and in the back of his mind Rachen couldn't help wondering if they had simply forgot about him and planned on leaving him to rot.

_He_ came the next day. _He _walked in with his head held high, a swagger in his step, and a smirk upon his lips, a cruel gleam in his cool steely gray eyes. At first all _he_ had done was lead Rachen into a smaller, far more compact cell, where he would be forced to spend his time with his hands chained up against the wall, above his head in the most uncomfortable position one could imagine. Maybe they had figured out how the charms worked, Rachen couldn't be sure. At any rate it wouldn't make much difference, he hadn't been able to bring any charms with him, so he was helpless with or without the restraints. Even so, given all that, none of this would have quite prepared him for dealing with _him._

With his confident, cruel smile, he strode into the room a swagger in his step and a near sadistic twinkle in his eye. At first _he_ said nothing, he merely stood before him, as if analyzing Rachen, taking him for all he was, his expression never faltering. Then, he spoke, and how Rachen would wish that young man would never speak again.

"So, mage," he began, slowly crossing the room, and stooping down to meet Rachen at eye level. "now that you've gotten used to your current accommodations I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I asked you a few... just a few simple questions."

As it turned out the questions weren't quite that simple. They started out easy, personal, family related matters, siblings, and of course, about Maric, and the Tellerman boy, how he had known them and that sort of thing. Anything too difficult or risky to explain that could result in trouble were easy to lie around, and thus things continued smoothly. Smoothly, that is, until questions about organizations started popping up. Mage organizations, idealistic bunches set on overthrowing the crown, from what Rachen could tell. At first, Rachen had near chuckled to himself at the idea. There were scarcely enough mages to count on two hands in the entire kingdom of Corneria, at least any more, and Rachen could attest to the fact that most of the mages that did visit his shop were from outside of the kingdom, and often came by on a regular basis.

However, after a while the subject came about again, and this time, the young swordsman refused to stray from the topic, slowly becoming more and more specific until finally it seemed he'd had enough. He stood up, and in a fierce whisper, as he seemed to want no-one but Rachen and himself to hear the question, he asked. "What do you know of the Brotherhood?"

_The Brotherhood? _ Rachen shuddered, even now trying not to think of exactly what that name meant. _It couldn't have been the Brotherhood I'm thinking of. The Brotherhood of Black Arts, no, we... we all split off long ago. Too long for anyone of his age to remember, Maric hadn't even been born by the time any ordeal surrounding the Brotherhood was picked off. This must be some... some different Brotherhood. _ He looked to the ceiling of his cell, staring blankly at the moss covered stone walls.

_If I knew better, I'd say you were behind all this, Wyatt. _he smiled ruefully _But no, you've been dead for two years now. Dead, publicly executed for who knows what, and a father to boot. The father of a mage who can't use magic. A lot has happened in twenty years, hasn't it?_

Twenty years. Had it really been that long since he'd seen Wyatt last? After the Brotherhood had split, Wyatt ended up being the only person Rachen could truly trust. At least, the only one who had managed to stay alive through the entire ordeal at any rate. _If I'd known I would never see him again after we went our separate ways, I'd have never let him leave. _He shook his head sadly. _And now little Tellerman is gone too, he and Maric... _

He shook off the thought. _No. No, Maric isn't dead. Not my Maric, he wouldn't go down without a fight. Maybe he got them with that 'saving the princess' idea. It always works in those old wives tales people always put out, why not here? Yes, Maric has to have survived, he and Tellerman. That's why they didn't come back for me... that's why..._

"Hello there," At once the door swung open with a brutal, echoingthud. A tall, dark haired young man could be seen standing in the doorway, casually leaning against one side, a smug smile on his face, his eyes cool, but a hint of eagerness in them. It was _him._ "are you well, mage? I'm assuming our hospitality has been... acceptable."

Rachen sprung to his feet, the rattling of the chains attached to his arms a painful reminder of the fact that he was in fact unable to strangle the boy where he stood. "What do you want?" Rachen growled, hoping words would make up for the fact that he was quite unable to do any physical harm to the boy in front of him. Unfortunately, it didn't.

"Why Rachen, that is your name isn't it Uncle Rachen?" The boy's voice fluctuated with mock surprise. "Rachen I want nothing from you. How could I take from a man who has nothing." A cruel smile grew on his face. "No, instead I have some... some outside information for you."

"Information?" Rachen repeated, dread bubbling up inside him. Surely this was just another cruel twist that _he_ was trying to put into Rachen's imprisonment "What kind of information?"

"I'm afraid it's not very uplifting." The young knight said, his expression falling to one of mock sorrow. "In fact I'd say exactly the opposite, but no matter. I suppose for you things can't get all that worse."

"What is it?" Rachen growled, glaring at the young man.

"So eager, Uncle Rachen?" _he _smiled, "Well I'll be plain then. The warriors of light were found this morning. They're all dead I'm afraid."

"Who?" Rachen raised an eyebrow, a gut feeling making his heart begin to sink rapidly.

"Why the Warriors of light." The young man repeated. "That group your nephew tried to set up to save Princess Sara and get himself free. They're dead."

"What?" Rachen cried, his eyes widening at first with shock, and then disbelief. _No. No, he's lying they can't be..._

"Dead. I'm afraid they simply couldn't work with each other. From what it looks like they turned on each other in the night and..." the young man's smile only grew wider, "Well I suppose you don't quite want all the details."

Rachen shook his head, barely hearing a word the knight was saying. _No. They can't be... not them. No he's just playing tricks. He's lying. Maric isn't dead, he's still out there parading around with young Tellerman. Not after all this, not now._

"It's hard to accept, I know." Somehow Rachen couldn't quite believe that this cold hearted man could be feeling even the slightest bit of remorse. The young man continued, his eyes still frighteningly calm. "My brother was one of them. It wasn't his fault. The rest of them turned on him. He fought tooth and nail to stay alive but. Ultimately it was too much for him. He died with his sword still clutched in his hand. Of course, it was lucky he caught a clean wound. He wasn't quite as mangled as... as the little black mage was."

"What?" Involuntarily, Rachen cried out again, not exactly wanting to hear the gruesome details, but knowing now he had set himself up.

"From what I heard the boy was stabbed through the side." The knight said casually. "I suppose it wouldn't have been all that bad... if he hadn't tried to pull away afterwards. Long story short he basically managed to... disembowel himself." As he finished the smile on his face grew wider still, almost as if he was ready to burst out laughing.

Rachen paled, a sick feeling rising in his throat. _He isn't lying, is he?_ He shook his head in disbelief, eyes still wide with shock.

"The other mage was a particularly.. well... tragic case I'm afraid." The knight continued. Rachen's stomach gave another lurch, and he prayed the boy wouldn't continue. He did. " In the end, his case seemed pretty clean cut. A broken leg, and a couple good stab wounds, no-one really thought to check if the boy was still breathing or not. The team who found them thought it would be fit to simply, burn the bodies of the prisoners, and my brother would have a proper funeral later on. Well... in a horribly... unfortunate turn of events it turned out the boy wasn't really dead after all, simply too tired and broken to carry on, and, well they didn't know that when they lit his seemingly dead body aflame. They hadn't intended to be cruel, don't get me wrong, you'd have thought if he was still conscious he'd have alerted them to the fact that he was still alive, or at least protested when they started pouring lamp oil, but for whatever reason he hadn't done a thing to alert them to the fact that he wasn't dead until after he was on fire... that's what they told me afterwards anyway, although I suppose..."

"Stop!" Rachen cried, by now he was sure he was going to be sick, and the fact that his throat had closed, making his voice sound high and pained, wasn't helping. "Please I don't want to hear anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry." The young man made an empty apology. "I went too far didn't I? It must've been hard to hear the details of your nephew's death, knowing that if you hadn't pulled him into your little criminal organization he wouldn't have had to burn to death. By the way, did you know he cried out for you with his dying breath?" He went into a mock falsetto voice. "_Rachen, I'm so sorry I couldn't save you._"

"Stop it!" Rachen's eyes were wet with wild tears by now, his mind spinning, near forgetting for a moment what he was so enraged about. "Don't you dare mock my nephew! He was more of a man than you could ever hope to be." He spat at the young man, unable to do anything else to show his unadulterated hatred.

"I'm very glad you think that." The young knight said, casually wiping spittle off his face. " I'm sure he'd be happy to be thought of so highly by the man who let him burn alive."

_It is my fault, isn't it?_ The thought struck Rachen like a stone, the world seemed to be crashing down around him on all sides. _If I hadn't gotten that silly Light Warrior thought back into his head, he wouldn't have said anything about it. He would have been executed, we all would have been, but then... then at least he wouldn't have to suffer, not like that. _ Imaged flashed before Rachen's eyes. The fight. Young Tellerman disemboweled. The young thief girl, she was run through in the back trying to escape. And at last, Maric was the last one still breathing. He looked wearily around through blurring vision at the gore around him, unable to move, slowly dying on his own. Day would break, he would be asleep, soundly, half sedated from loosing blood over night, kept alive on some raw healing magic, only to awake when it was too late. Too late. _I'm too late._

It was too late, all too late, and Rachen himself knew that he was now alone forever. Forever alone, in the darkness and with no-one to blame but himself.

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_Alone_ that was the way Stephon had planned on going back to Corneria that morning, back in the early hours of the night. He had sat for a long while thinking about that, watching as the moon drew a lazy line across the sky, and the stars chased after it, following it's motions. It was nearly midnight now, and Stephon still sat in virtually the same position he'd sat while conversing with the red mage, his sword cradled in his lap. Every so often he would raise it, holding it aloft to point at Celeste, or Maric or Half-Mage, pretending that by merely threatening with is blade he could take the life of the one he threatened, until eventually, the guilty feeling went away. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, trying to take his mind off of his current situation instead focusing on how he would go about his task. What would be the most effective order.

Obviously under any other circumstances Celeste would have to be the first to go. She was the fastest runner and the lightest sleeper, but injured she would be none of these things. Sluggish from old wounds that Maric had yet to heal, and feeble from blood loss. It would be more likely for the girl to awake while he was trying to put her down, and wake the other two mages, than for one of them to wake her. Now the choice was between the two mages, Maric, and Half-Mage, Red and Black.

Maric would be more difficult to wake up, but at the same time under the slim chance that he did he would most likely be far more of a problem. If half mage truly was more a mage than he let on, he still would be unable to make any effective immediate moves against Stephon, before Stephon could launch a counter offense. Shane would have to charge a spell, while Maric would not, he had the use of a blade, and that was what Stephon was afraid of.

If Maric did awake, if any of them did, for that matter, his entire quest would be over. If he was caught in the act... how could he explain it? He couldn't; this was a situation you can talk your way out of.

_The red mage will be the first to go. _ He decided at last. _ Then the thief, and then the black mage. _He concentrated on that order of things, that order as he approached the sleeping mage. _ The red mage, the thief, and then the black mage. Maric, Celeste and then Half-Mage. Maric and..._

He stopped, shaking his head slightly. _No, I can't think of them as people. Attaching names just makes this... harder. Letting them live is endangering my own survival, it has been this entire time and at any point they could turn on me. It's been pure luck that they haven't already. This has to end now. Now before..._

His train of thought halted as he walked past the thief girl who now slept soundly, curled up in the spare blanket they'd brought with them. In sleep, when her eyes weren't constantly filled with contempt and hate, she really held a fair complexion, and, for a commoner, was really rather pretty. In her sleep she looked far younger, no older than fourteen at most, just a girl, innocent, sweet, and pure. Maybe that was just how his mind saw her, how he wanted to see her. He shook his head again, a cold hearted thief with a knife near as sharp as her tongue was for from pure and sweet, and the likes of mages, godless wretches that sacrifice their own souls for power. How could they possibly be innocent? He nearly laughed aloud. Feeling guilty for something like this was silly.

Then he came across Maric. He and Shane slept rather close to each other, though not touching each other physically. Getting Maric without waking Shane would be difficult, he would have to make sure he was as fast and efficient as possible, taking care to make sure the mage boy didn't cry out when he... Stephon's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. _I'm never going to be able to do anything like this again. _ He noted._ This is the last time. Once I'm King I'll make sure I never see battle again. I'll send someone else to the field for me, no, there will be no battles. When I rule there will be peace._

He knelt down, laying his sword lightly against the boy's neck. It would be easier if the mage didn't sleep on his back, instead favoring the curled up position Celeste slept in. So close to the ground, and using such a long blade, the entire maneuver would be awkward, and quite possibly, could end up rather messy. _If I had some leverage this would go much smoother. Maybe I could prop his head up a little, then at least I'd be able to hold him down with my other hand if he wakes up. I'm afraid to move him but... well he seems to sleep like a rock so it shouldn't matter that much._

Hesitantly he gave Maric a small nudge with his hand. No movement, not even a reaction to his touch, the boy just lay there still as death, slow breathing the only indication that the red mage hadn't in fact died in his sleep already. He gingerly lifted the mage's head back, removing his red plumed hat to make the maneuver easier. He propped the boy's head up against his knee, again gently laying his sword across Maric's neck. For a second, one fleeting moment, he took a second to look into his face as well. In sleep the boy was near to emotionless, but peaceful looking never-the-less. He looked unsuspecting, and again, innocent, and young. Maybe Stephon was the only of them that wasn't a child, simply because he'd long since forgotten what it was like to have innocence. _I'm sorry boy, please know this._ He thought. _Under any other circumstances, _any_ other, you would live, and I truly do regret having to do this to you, to all of you. I'm sorry._

He touched the blade of his sword now to the boy's neck, this time poising it so that in one swift cut he could tear open the boy's throat, thus ensuring his death. He would struggle, he knew he would, struggle and cry out and maybe even try to prepare and cast a cure spell, knowing he would never manage to finish the spell in time. He would die with the chant on his lips.

A small, just barely audible rustling sound came from behind Stephon. The back of his neck prickled. He could hear a voice just about audible, mumbling underneath it's breath. _A spell?_ Stephon's first instinct told him far worse than the worst had happened. Shane had awoken, it had to be him, and already a sleep spell was on his lips, nearly half way done by now. The spell was short, Stephon would never be able to launch a counter-attack in time.

In horror the warrior whirled around. Behind him he found nothing. No half-mage, standing menacingly above him, chanting a spell's incantation. No immediate drowsiness hit him after a few seconds of silence, no spell trigger was spoken. A few feet away, Shane gave a little grunt rolling over, and mumbling something in restless sleep. Stephon smirked. _Just over reacting again is all._ He thought, lowering his blade.

Again, Stephon turned back to the sleeping mage, moving to set his blade on the boy's throat once again. Strangely enough, as his blade came down it was at once intercepted by a second blade, this one apparently being held by the sleeping red mage himself. Stephon started, his heart immediately dropping into the pit of his stomach. _You aren't asleep. _ He addressed the mage silently._ Are you?_

As if answering Stephon's silent question Maric's eyes immediately shot open, a hard accusing glare in his grey-green eyes. He had never been asleep, somehow Stephon knew he'd been awake the entire time, somehow he'd known tonight would otherwise be his last night to live. Stephon stumbled back, and at once Maric jumped to his feet, standing, for a second, above Stephon, looking down upon him in silent hate.

"Wouldn't stoop down to our level, would you?" The boy echoed his words of the night before icily. "You've too much dignity, too much poise to be brought to the antics used by thieves and common folk. You could kill us all in broad daylight if you felt moved to do so, couldn't you?" For a second Maric's blade lowered itself, and for one fleeting moment his confrontational air dissipated. He laughed, shaking his head.

"Do not mock me." Stephon cried, getting to his feet, brandishing his sword. "I was going to be merciful in taking your life painlessly, now I may be moved to do otherwise."

"Don't take me wrong, I am not laughing at you." Maric replied, looking back to Stephon. He shook his head again "I was a fool. You made a fool of me, Carris."

"You were always a fool, boy." Stephon spat. "If you hadn't distrusted and plotted against me, I wouldn't be forced to take this action."

"Plotted against you?" Maric asked, his body suddenly stiffening. "I was the only one in this team who believed you and your lies."

"And you expressed this trust by staying up to spy on me during my shift?" Stephon asked, glaring at the mage. Even now he continued his lies, even after all of this ended up being for nothing.

"Shane was the one who didn't trust you standing guard tonight." Maric replied. "I told him I would stay awake tonight too, to prove him wrong, how wrong was I?"

_Half-mage?_ Stephon could barely believe what he was hearing. _Of all people, Shane, half-mage Shane, Sir Carris's Shane, he didn't trust me. _He paled. _And he was right not to. What have I done? _

"So, congratulations," Stephon sighed. "you found me out. Now I'm afraid I can't let you live for much longer."

At once Stephon lunged in at the red mage, his sword poised to attack. Maric parried with the flat of his blade once again, stumbling back a little from the force. For a second his eyes flashed with fear, and then, pure fury, he fought back with his blade, beating Stephon's away for a second, and then lunging in with an attack of his own, cutting down from above. Stephon parried high, whipping the sword away. For a second, the mage nearly lost control of his blade, at the last minute catching it with his other hand and then turning to Stephon again.

Stephon rushed in again, only for his initial blow to be parried by the boy's rapier. He immediately disengaged and struck again, this time aiming higher, but the boy ducked his blade, immediately thrusting his sword out, only to miss his target as well. Both swords were recalled, and they stood just as they had before, Maric panting heavily from the brief fight. Stephon smirked, the boy tired rather quickly, this would be an easy match.

"Why?" Maric cried out again. This time, his voice was sad, and confused. "Why are you doing this? I thought you really were going to help us. I thought you really wanted to save Princess Sara. What happened to that?"

"Don't you see mage?" Stephon cried back. "You still don't understand what's happening here, do you?" For a second there was silence. "There is no quest, no life saving to be done. The queen sent out a battalion to do what the four of us obviously can't. What I'm here to do, is to get you and your Light Warrior story out of the way. By now word is already getting to the king that we fought Garland. We fought, and we failed, that the three of you died in battle. I'm just here to make that illusion a reality."

Maric stared at Stephon for a second, his eyes wide in disbelief, and horror. _So, now you know. _Stephon added silently. _I regret it all. Every moment of it. You'll never know that, but that won't matter in a few moments. _

Again now fueled with new rage the red mage rushed at Stephon, his sword held outright. He gave a feral cry, with all the strength that his lanky body could muster, he swung the sword down. Stephon met it with a blow of his own, twice as strong, the resulting jolt sent Maric sprawling back, his hands windmilling to keep his balance. In a split second an opportunity was there. There was no way the boy could protect himself, he couldn't parry, and Stephon, already ready to strike, had only to extend his sword to cut into the boy's exposed chest.

Before his eyes he saw the gristly images flash by: His sword bursting forward and Maric, caught off guard, giving a surprised cry, first just in shock, and then in brutal agony. He hoped not, he hoped he would just pierce his heart, he wouldn't even have time to cry being dead before he hit the ground, but he knew such a stroke of luck wouldn't come to him. He would fall to his knees as Stephon removed his sword, eyes suddenly empty, filled only with pain. For a second it would look as if the wound wasn't directly lethal, that he wouldn't immediately die as he looked up, taking a few pained breaths, and staring into Stephon's eyes. At last it would happen, as it did with all the struck and dying, his eyes would for a second go wide and pained, and then the next second go soft, and the boy would fall over backwards, dead. Then there would be Shane and Celeste. Celeste and Half-mage watching horror struck. _Stephon, what have you done?! _He would attack them too, he would have to now, and they would die too, Half-Mage going down easy, and Celeste fighting until her dagger slipped from her unmoving hands, and Stephon was alone, always alone, just as the sun began to rise.

It never happened. The opportunity to kill came, and then it was over, and Stephon parried high as Maric's blade came down upon his. At once he caught a bad footing. He kept his sword up, fighting to protect himself, and struggling to stay righted, but at last, he found he'd failed. He hit the ground with a hard thud, his sword bouncing out of his grip, and Maric's blade pointed at his neck. No way out, no way to redeem himself for the foul move. He had lost.

_No. _ Horror crossed his face. _No, I can't have lost. I haven't. To him? This isn't possible._ Frantically he looked around for some means to defend himself; something. Nothing.

"Maric, what's going on?" A very groggy looking Half-Mage approached the two of them cautiously.

In desperation, Stephon cried out first. "The boy's gone mad! He attacked me, he wants to kills us all!" In his heart he knew his words were useless. _He doesn't trust me. He never did, he certainly won't now._

The boy blinked sleepily, looking from Stephon to Maric once again. Once again he asked. "Maric, what's going on?"

"You were right, Shane." Maric replied, his voice holding a bit of bitterness in it. "You were absolutely right. Stephon couldn't be trusted."

The half-mage nodded sadly, saying nothing for a good while. Immediately he crept over to Celeste, shaking the girl lightly to wake her.

After a second she groaned, rolling over. "What'd you want half-mage?" She asked groggily. "Ugh... when'd it get so dark?"

"Stephon tried to kill Maric." Shane ignored her question, instead drawing attention over to Stephon, who felt a good bit of shame growing in his stomach.

_I shouldn't have done this. _Stephon thought. _I should have just gone along with it. They were innocent the entire time, the only scheming one was me._

"So, what do we do with him?" Celeste asked, looking over the knight with a look of disgust on her face.

"We kill him." Shane was the first to speak up. "If we let him live, he'll only come back for us again. I'm sorry Sir Carris, it's just to protect our lives. You understand, right?"

Stephon stared at the boy in disbelief at the utterly bloodthirsty course of action he'd immediately chosen to take, followed by Maric and Celeste as well. Shane had never before been one to talk about killing, in fact, he had been the one who cringed whenever it was spoken of. Why the sudden change of heart now?

"No." Maric's eyes darted back to Stephon. "I won't kill him."

"Half-mage's probably right about this one." Celeste pointed out. "If we let him go, what stops him from coming back tomorrow night and killing us then?" Celeste didn't seem surprised in the slightest that Stephon had betrayed them. His heart sank down even further. _ I deserve it, don't I._

"I won't kill him." Maric repeated, a soft hint in his otherwise harsh voice. _He knows I spared him. _He thought. _He knows, doesn't he? More observant than you look aren't you? But no... this isn't worth as much as you think it is._

"Go ahead boy." Stephon said softly, at once finding his throat rather tight. "Our battle was a true one, one life wagered for another. I've lost, and I must now accept defeat."

"I will not take your life." The red mage was steadfast.

"Then you would rob me of my dignity instead?" Stephon glared at Maric. "I've lost, you bested me in combat, and I'll tell you I will not be made a prisoner. I couldn't bare that kind of disgrace."

"I'm not going to kill you." Maric said again, thoughtfully now. "But I won't keep you prisoner either." For a second he paused, taking a second to ponder the situation. "Celeste, do we have any rope with us?" Stephon paled even more now.

"We have a little." Celeste called back. "Not very much though, why?"

Maric nodded thoughtfully, ignoring Celeste's question. "Shane, I want you to cast a sleep spell on Stephon. Celeste and I will go back into the Cornerian forest and leave him there." He turned to Stephon now. "You'll have your sword but no food or potions, and certainly no white magic. It's a good two day's walk to Corneria from here. If you can make it back on your own so be it, but I'd suggest not letting any of your noble friends about how you let your prisoners get away. It wouldn't do you much good to try and find us, the continent is large, so finding us would be like finding a needle in a haystack, and it wouldn't look good to King Leo if he knew his finest knight was bested by two mages and a thief." He turned to leave Half-Mage to his work, only as a last thought adding. "Of course, if you really want to you could come back and hunt us yourself, giving us less time to move out on our own, but without any food, and us having a head start of... well.. ye gods it could be from hours to days depending on how potent the spell ends up being. Anyway, I think you get the picture."

"Well.. what's the rope for then?" Celeste asked again.

"Just to slow him down a bit." Maric replied, his eyes held an almost mischievous gleam to them. Suddenly Stephon felt uneasy. _He can be little devil when he wants to be, can't he?_

"_Sleep"_ At once Stephon found himself fighting to stay awake. Half-mage stood over him, looking more than just a little downhearted as he uttered the words. Suddenly he found himself unable to stay upright, he faltered, trying to force himself away from sleeping, but to no avail. At last, he had no choice but to succumb to the grip of the Half-Mage's spell.

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"I'm really not trying to be cruel, you must understand." Maric said idly as he and Celeste traversed back through the Cornerian forest. "Stephon is strong, and he's cunning. One little diversion won't hold him for long."

"Maric, I said nothing about your antics being cruel, did I?" Celeste huffed. The sun was nearly up now, and she hadn't gotten half the amount of sleep she figured she should have gotten. In short, her temper was at it's end right now, something Maric didn't seem to understand. "No, I didn't say anything, I have no problem with leaving Carris to rot in the middle of the Cornerian forest. Honestly I don't see why you do."

"He had a chance to kill me Celeste. More than one chance, so many chances." Maric replied. "He could have, and he didn't, and for the life of me I don't know why. If we were really so useless to him... if he was really just out to kill us eventually... why would he go to such length to time and time again, to spare and save my life.. our lives?"

"It doesn't matter." Celeste answered. "Sometimes people don't really have a reason for what they do. They just do things."

Maric went silent for a moment, as if brooding on the subject. Celeste shook her head. _This kid's head is really in the clouds. _She though, smirking. _He thinks he's a hero, doesn't he? Some kind of character who would let his enemies go free. He's not that good. As far as I'm concerned, he's just an idiot with magic and a sword who just made the biggest mistake in his life by letting Stephon Carris live another day._

"I can't believe that." At last the red mage spoke again. "I'm still alive, there has to be a reason for that. Somewhere in his mind, there's a reason I'm still standing. He should have killed me Celeste. I should be dead right now, we all should be."

"What do you mean?"Celeste furrowed her brow. Obviously there was some part of this story that she was missing.

Maric sighed, as if for a moment, taking the time to collect his thoughts. "There was a moment in that fight when... when I lost my balance... no... no I didn't just loose my balance he pushed me back hard enough to knock me off my guard and..." He stopped, rubbing his eyes as if to collect his thoughts. "I was off for about five seconds, and I... I saw him winding up to strike, I saw him get ready, and in that moment I told myself: 'Maric you really are a fool. Now you'll die for it.' and..."

There was a moment of silence. "And?" Celeste urged him, just for the sake of urging the boy on.

"And he just stood there. No, he didn't just stand there, he lowered his guard, near dropping his sword. I caught myself and struck at him and he fell back, it was like he just gave up." He shook his head. "As if seeing a point when he could have killed me was all he wanted, and I could do what I want from there, but that doesn't make any sense, he was going to kill me in my sleep, he didn't even want to fight, much less spare me after fighting me. I don't understand."

"You don't have to." Celeste replied. "We're free now. Everything that happened back there... don't you realize what this means?" There was a silence, Maric staring rather blankly at Celeste for a moment. Celeste kneaded her brow. _Definitely in the clouds._ "Stephon is gone now, out of our hair for good, that's all that really matters. We're free, we aren't going to die."

Maric sighed, breaking contact with the thief girl's gaze. "We are." For someone who just got news that he in fact wouldn't have to throw down his life into the hands of a merciless, evil, princess kidnapping, knight and face almost certain death, he seemed to be rather sullen.

"Look, we're almost out of the forest." Celeste changed the subject quickly. "Lets get over there and make sure Half-Mage didn't come up with some other way to near kill himself."

Luckily as they approached the young black mage they found him still sitting in the spot he'd been left in, a half eaten hard biscuit in his hand. His eyes lit up upon seeing the two of them coming back down the flat stretch of land.

"Hi Maric!" He chirped, shoving the rest of the biscuit into his invisible mouth. "And ah... Celeste."

Even now he seemed timid. A little less than before when he would rarely look at Celeste, but still, he seemed to keep a bit of distance between himself and the thief girl. _With good reason I suppose._ She thought. _I'm not sure if I'd want him to be quite as... clingy with me as he is with Maric. He's still a freak. They both are._ Suddenly Celeste began to yearn for the comfort of having at least one other human with her who didn't have magic running through his veins. The two of them just didn't quite look normal, or act normal for that matter, and now that Stephon was gone, she was stuck with the two of them. _After all. _She told herself. _There's no way I'm going out there alone._

Maric started chanting another spell. Celeste shuddered. She couldn't help it. Whenever one of them started a spell she had to shudder, their low, monotone voices were just so... inhuman. She had to wonder how such strange beings could function as normal people do. In the back of her mind she answered herself. _They don't._

Before Celeste knew it the fire was roaring. The sun had already risen, but even so it was still cold, and some much needed warmth was nice, as well as some food. Food was getting low, she could see that plainly, and even missing one mouth to feed it would be difficult to keep on living like this for more than a few days. _Really. _ Celeste wondered. _What are we going to do without Stephon? I hated him as a person, I'm sure we all did, but I rather liked having his sword around._

"So." Maric announced, trying to assume the same tone of voice Stephon had when giving orders and failing miserably. "We've lost some daylight, but we should probably be able to cross the marshlands, and get into the second forest before sundown today, but we'll have to get going soon."

"What?" Celeste asked. "Why the rush? We don't have to go anywhere? If anything we should try to make a little camp. Just a little structure in case it rains, we've been lucky so far but.."

"But making a camp isn't getting us any closer to Garland." Maric finished for her. Celeste rolled her eyes. _Oh ye gods._

"Garland? What part of 'we're free and don't have to die' do you not understand boy?" Celeste nearly shouted. "Or are you still convinced we're the Warriors of Light?"

"Well... yes.. yes I still _know_ we are the Warriors of Light." Maric admitted, prompting an exasperated huff from Celeste. "But, that's not the only reason we should try to combat Garland."

"Oh?" Celeste asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why then? Why should we still try to go get ourselves killed?" _This should be good. Something about nobility and doing what's just and right, right boy?_

"Because if we let this go, we'll have to live like criminals forever." Maric began. "If we bring the princess back, we'll be treated like kings. Gold, full meals, everything. What less would you give to someone who saved a royal? Far better than living in squalor I'd say."

Celeste smirked. _You know, I think I like the way you think, boy. _"So we ransom the girl." Celeste offered thoughtfully. Half-mage nodded vigorously, agreeing at once.

"N-no that's not what I meant..." Maric started.

"Shut up mage boy." Celeste cut him off. "That way, they'll have to consent to us.. and who knows then. We'll split the shares take a boat, and go our separate ways, and hopefully never see each other again. I think I like that."

"Celeste that really isn't what I was trying to say... I..." Maric began again, only to be cut off by the thief girl.

"Quiet mage. You had a good idea, don't ruin it." Celeste cut him off again.

"We don't have to ransom the princess you know." The red mage butted in again. Celeste glared at him.

"Then what do you suggest we do? Parade right up through the capital city into the castle and dump the girl at King Leo's feet?" Celeste asked dryly.

"Well.. yes actually." Maric replied. Celeste groaned. "Well, they can't exactly stop us. The princess would obviously be in our debt, if we're being escorted by a royal it doesn't matter if our blood is common, magic, elven, or Lunfinan. We're automatically safe."

Celeste nodded thoughtfully. _I really like the way you think, boy._ She thought. "Alright, you have me. I like it" She smirked. "We all give our blades and magic to help recover the princess, and we each get a third the wealth. We split our shares and go our separate ways. Agreed?"

Maric nodded "Sounds fair to me."

Shane looked from Celeste to Maric a few times, looking a bit uneasy. At once she realized his reasoning for uneasiness. _I did betray their trust before. I am a thief after all. For all they know I could be planning on slitting their throats afterwards to get all three shares of gold. Not a bad idea really, but a little too risky for my tastes._

"Shake on it." Celeste said, standing and extending a hand. Maric hesitated slightly. "Thief's honor. As long as I don't have to endure the company of any more nobles or mages, I'll split my share."

"It's a deal then." Maric said, taking her hand firmly. Shane followed the motion.

"Right then." Celeste began again, looking on to the horizon. The sooner she got to the temple, the sooner she got her gold. There was some incentive if she'd ever seen it. "Lead the way, sir... ah... sir..."

"Argonson." He sighed. "But please... just call me Maric... I'm not like Stephon, you know."

"I know." Celeste replied, a little more remorsefully than she'd have liked.

The three of them ate in silence again. When there was no task to keep them busy, Celeste felt being around the other two mages was rather awkward. Other than the fact that they were mages, Celeste knew virtually nothing about them, who they were, even around how old they were. With mages it was difficult to tell, though she expected Half-mage could be placed safely at around twelve years.

Such things hadn't bothered her up until now, now after three days when their first member left them, and she realized how aloof she'd been up until now. When she wasn't required to, she hadn't uttered a word to them, rarely even made eye contact with Shane, simply because of his particularly ghoulish appearance and spoke even less. _I wonder what they would have done if I had been the traitor instead of Stephon._ She wondered. _ Would they have let me go too? Would Maric have just taken my head off without giving a second thought? _She shuddered. From the first night she had planned on being the night assassin. After the rest of them had long fallen to sleep, she stayed awake, planning, trying to justify killing them. She sat there all night and never made a move. Obviously, Carris had been far more bold than she was. Now, she wasn't sure she'd have been able to do the same, and now, she was sure it would be quite a while before she could be rid of the two mages again.

_If I didn't need them for protection and healing I wouldn't be here._ She was sure enough of that. _But if I wasn't with them, where would I be?_

She shook off the horrible tingling notion in the pit of her stomach that usually surfaced when she thought about the thief clan, their utter demise at her hands. She shook the thought off. _This girl is my ace in the hole. If we succeed here, I'm home free. I can live a life of luxury over at Crescent Lake, or maybe get a little place near Melmond, that town is usually nice around this time of year. Anything, anything but here._

"Alright, we should be heading off now." Maric turned to the horizon, looking out at the flat, marshy bog that lay before him. Celeste was sure she saw the boy shudder. "Just... the temple is just across this swamp...right?"

"Is there any other way around?" Shane looked more than just a little apprehensive about crossing the bog. Not without reason either. It was wet, damp, and otherwise unpleasant looking, and the things they could meet up with ranged from the slimy and unsettling, to the grotesque and horrifying. At least that was what Celeste expected. With dead twigs jutting out from the seemingly endless, slime covered ground at strange angles, and the smell of rotting death hanging heavy in the air, Celeste couldn't say she blamed the two mages.

"C-come on." She urged the two of them, against all reasoning she gingerly took a step out letting a moccasin clad foot sink into the soft muddy earth. The thick brown water sloshed up to her ankles, mud clinging to her feet, immediately sinking into her shoes. On top of all that it was dreadfully cold, and Celeste near yanked her foot from the bog's water then and there, but for a second more she preserved, looking back to the two mages with a forced smile. "It isn't that bad."

They didn't believe her for a second. The two mages exchanged hesitant glances, looking more than just a little meek. After a second, Maric took another step forward.

"It's just a little water. Nothing to get so worked up over. "Maric said a little more hesitantly than she should have. "We've faced worse than this. It's not all that long anyway. We'll be out in no time."

There was a hesitation between the two mages. At last Maric gingerly took a few steps into the swamp, followed closely by Shane. The ground was rough, and unstable, and the murky mud and water combination the three were wading in only made it harder to move. Obviously, travel was painstakingly slow, accompanied by the thick, damp smell of rotten earth and mud that slowly became more and more pungent as they went deeper in. A sick kind of suckling sound accented their steps as they went, and Celeste could feel the mud sloshing up nearly to her calves, her knees sprayed with flecks of bog water after mere minutes.

It almost seemed like they were slowly sinking deeper and deeper into the swamp itself. After maybe an hour of walking Celeste not only felt wet and exhausted, but also quite a bit closer to the swamp's bottom, wherever that could be. At any rate there was one up side to all of this: no beasts were anywhere to be seen, save for a few stray mosquitoes. No wolves or forest imps to claw at her hands and feet, and after being perforated with more gashes than she cared to count, she was glad for the halt in monster encounters, if only for a short while.

They had long since abandoned the use of lines, or any form of rank. That had dissolved as soon as Stephon was out of their hair. Instead Celeste walked a few paces behind the two mages, who were side by side. Shane had his staff, and used that as a support to paddle along, and Maric simply sloshed along ahead of them, not even bothering to lift his feet from the mud water to clear the surface, and was apparently not aware of the fact that he was slowly being pulled down into the swamp itself. _ Maybe coming through here was a bad idea._ She thought, biting her lip.

At once, Celeste realized the horizon was becoming fuzzy and vague. She blinked a few times, attempting to clear her vision, only to realize that it wasn't just her. With every step she took, a cloudy haze rolled in closing them in tighter and tighter until the horizon was completely obscured in the white haze. _Fog._ She thought nervously. _Great now we'll get lost._

"We should probably stay a little closer." Maric advised, at once halting so that Celeste could catch up with him. The two mages moved in around Celeste, leaving a good three or four inches between them, making absolutely sure that no-one would be separated.

"I don't like the way this looks, Maric." Shane said softly, looking around with wary eyes. "Maybe we should stop until the fog is a little less thick."

Maric shook his head. "Not now. We only have a little ways to go." Of course, he was lying. The swamp was really a rather long landmark. At this rate it would take nearly a day to cross. Two maybe because of the fog.

"We're going to get lost if we keep going." Celeste couldn't help siding with the half-mage again. "It'd probably be best to stop" By now the fog looked just about thick enough to cut. Celeste could barely see a foot in front of her face, and on top of that, she could swear she felt something brushing against her bare leg under the water.

"Here." At once Maric launched a quick chant, triggering a fire spell that flickered brightly in the palm of his hand. "This should help us a little."

Celeste nodded. Maric was right, it was much easier to see now, but just one little fire wasn't exactly comforting to her. All she really wanted right now was to be free of the horrible bog.

They struggled forwards for what seemed like days to Celeste. Now she knew they were sinking, the water had risen to nearly her mid-calves. At any moment, it looked like it was possible for the earth to give out from under any one of them and suck them down into the depths of hell. A couple of times, Celeste felt like she really was having to struggle to move. This wasn't going to end well, a foreboding feeling told her that this place wasn't safe.

At once, a faint noise seemed to float, ever so softly over the murky swamp. At first Celeste was sure her ears were playing tricks on her. After hearing nothing but the sloshing of swamp water for who knows how long, her ears must be longing to hear something different. She dismissed it until she heard the same noise again. Her stomach churned. _Spirits? _ She had heard stories about the souls of the long since dead coming back to haunt the earth, warning passers by away from the place where they died. Seeing how treacherous this swamp was proving to be, Celeste wouldn't be surprised if there were a good couple of spirits floating about.

The sound came again. Celeste shuddered. She nearly made to make a mad dash away if not for one crucial detail: her feet were near glued beneath the depths of the swamp's mud water. She stumbled slightly, her arms flailing as she fell backwards, shrieking as she did. Shane and Maric stared, utterly confused down at Celeste, who felt her face going bright red.

"S-sorry." She apologized, making an attempt to right herself, only to be pulled back into the marsh's depths even further.

"What was that about?" Maric asked, offering her a hand up. Hesitantly she accepted it, pulling herself to her feet.

"Nothing." Celeste muttered looking away. _They'd think I was a fool. Believing in such childish things as spirits. _For a second she felt near ashamed for thinking such things could exist, but at once a thought struck Celeste. _Then again, Maric does believe in the Light Warrior quest, and Shane basically believes anything he's told as far as I can see. I wonder if..._

"Do you believe in spirits?" Celeste blurted out the question before she could stop herself.

Maric furrowed his brow, looking back at the thief girl as if he hadn't caught the question. "What?"

"Do you believe in spirits?" Celeste repeated, this time a little more sure of herself. "You know, like ghosts?"

"Well er... yes." Maric said rather matter-of-factly, almost as if he was talking about the weather. "Why?"

"Do you think there could be any... around here?" Celeste asked her voice suddenly low.

"It's possible." Maric said hesitantly. "I think you'd know if you saw one though. Right now, we're just walking in a creepy old bog. As far as I can tell, it isn't a creepy ghost infested bog. If it was we'd be in trouble."

"Why's that?" Celeste asked hesitantly.

For a second she was sure she saw a mischievous gleam in Maric's eye. "Because, you've heard the stories, right?" Celeste shook her head. " Travelers who do happen to wander into ghost infested territories generally don't wander back out. The spirits toy with their minds, mess with their brains, stun the spirit and still the soul. One look into their eyes and it'll be the last thing you look at, your body goes numb and then they strike, leaving you as a hollow shell. And they're everywhere" Celeste felt her knees going weak. She didn't like the thought of these spirits. Not at all. Maric laughed, seeing how pale she'd grown. "Just like the one behind you."

Celeste gave a startled cry, making an attempt to spin about, only to find herself up to her waste in mud again. Shane had near jumped a foot in the air, and was currently clinging to Maric's arm for dear life. Of course, there was no ghost behind her, Maric had made that part up, though the rest of it, Celeste couldn't be sure of.

"So, no, I don't think there are any spirits around here." Maric finished, offering her a hand to help her up. This time, she refused, struggling to her feet on her own.

"That isn't funny." The thief girl growled through gritted teeth. "I really thought I heard something. You remember what happened the last time we dismissed Stephon for..." There was another uncomfortable silence. For a second, all three warriors averted their gazes, obviously thinking along the same lines. "I really did hear something." Celeste said at length.

"We should be careful then." Maric replied, his good humored air suddenly gone in a flash. "We're less likely to be attacked here, but if there really is something that can move in the swamps then we'll..." At once he stopped. That same light high pitched whine echoed from beyond the fog's reach. "What in the five hells was that?"

"Spirits?" Half-mage was looking particularly frightened now, clutching his staff in a white knuckled grip.

"No it sounded more like... no it couldn't be..." Maric trailed off again, as the noise rang out, louder still now, and sounding much less like a whine. Less like a whine and more like a whinny. "horses?"

The three exchanged doubtful glances.

"All the way out here?" Celeste asked. In the back of her mind, however, her brain was already beginning to dredge up old ghost stories her older siblings had told her on stormy nights back in Pravoka. _Horses that lost their riders in wars long past. They wandered the planes in search of their masters, looking for the ones who killed their riders. They wandered for years and eventually grew accustomed to the harsh terrain, learning to hunt and developing a bloodlust against that of men. They were ten times as strong as a wild horse, and even more swift. Mad Horses they were called. The mad horses of the plains. But... that couldn't be. That's a children's tale._

"I think they are." At once Maric's eyes seemed to light up. "I think we just found our way out of here."

At once the trio move forward, and soon the ground began to harden up, becoming far more sturdy than before. A thin coat of water lined the soggy grass but for the most part footing was firm here. The fog slowly parting to reveal what was indeed four tall, wild looking horses, if not looking a bit ragged and worn out from living in this harsh terrain. Regardless they seemed to handle themselves remarkably well in the swamp, where bog water and soft ground should surely cause the creatures to frighten and run off. How they had managed to traverse through miles of swamp land, Celeste hadn't the faintest idea.

"This is perfect." Maric whispered. "One for each of us." No-one really felt like pointing out the fact that there would be one left over. At this point, it wasn't worth it.

"They don't look very friendly." Shane pointed out, scanning the creatures cautiously. At once the fable of the mad horses sprung back up in Celeste's head.

"They're probably just frightened. Lost their masters somewhere out here in the swamps." Maric assured him, creeping closer to the beasts. "As long as we don't scare them, we should be fine."

"Y-you really shouldn't..." Celeste found her voice was lost. First spirits and now mad horses? It was as if she was slowly regressing into a child again, believing in spooks and old wives' tales. _I must sound silly, really._

Maric near completely ignored Celeste now, focusing solely on the largest of the stallions. This one was a dappled brown color, it's eyes wild with a feral kind of rage that the red mage obviously didn't see. He approached the animal with as much stealth as a red mage such as himself could muster, whispering to it in a soft, soothing voice. The animal didn't so much as turn it's head before rearing it's large muscular legs with an enraged whinny, it's hind leg sending a hooved foot crashing into the mage's stomach. Celeste looked away, wincing as Maric's body made contact with the soft marshy ground.

"Maric!" Shane, of course, was at the boy's side in seconds, Maric slowly sat up, groaning from the bone crushing impact, glaring at the animal as it continued to rear it's self, baying wildly.

"I didn't do anything to you!" Maric shouted back at the horse, coughing a spray of blood into his sleeve. "Do all animals hate me? I don't understand it!"

"I think you made it angry." Shane pointed out, motioning to the now thoroughly enraged animal. The other three had begun to bay as well.

One, a smaller once, began charging immediately at the three of them. Celeste dodged to the side, seeking refuge in the muddy water. Shane pulled Maric over to the opposite side, the two huddling together as the creature passed.

"I don't understand it." Maric murmured, looking at the four horses befuddled. "What did I do?"

"I've heard legends..." Celeste said softly, immediately all eyes were on her. She faltered. "It's... they're just old stories but... I've heard that there are horses that lost their masters in wars still out there, looking for revenge on those that killed their riders." It sounded absolutely ridiculous spoken aloud. Celeste flushed._ They asked._ He assured herself silently.

"Why didn't you tell us that before?" Maric asked, staggering to his feet. "Ye gods, it would have saved us some trouble"

"So, what do we do?" Shane asked, whimpering as the creatures drew closer.

"What we do with everything else." Maric said, drawing his sword with an unnecessary flourish. "We kill them."

The singing sound of Maric's blade coming from it's sheathe seemed to be the magic trigger. As if waiting for that cue, the four horses all rushed forward at once, bowling into the three warriors with astonishing speed. Only inches saved Celeste from being completely trampled.

At once Maric made a rush at one of the horses, his blade held above his head to strike it with the edge. The flimsy rapier blade bounced off the stallion's muscular hide like rubber, and Maric staggered back, as the horse reared back, baying angerly.

"Well if force won't work..." At once Maric had launched into a chant. The fire spell, Celeste knew the sound of that one nearly by heart now.

_Smart_ Celeste commended him silently. _Mad horse or no, they're still easily spooked. One good spark of flame ought to scare off all four of them._ Right now, however, Celeste had a problem of her own. One black horse had chosen her as it's prey, and bared down upon her with it's front legs threatening to crush her from sheer force. Quickly Celeste dodged under the animal's legs, wrapping her arms around one front leg, and holding on for dear life. The horse reared itself again, and Celeste was wrenched off near instantly, landing a few feet away. She looked up blearily, a little shaken , only to see the third horse delivering another powerful kick right into the side of the red mage's head. He crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

_Oh ye gods... _ Celeste's breath fell short. They were down to two now. She and half-mage were the only ones left. Half-mage? _Oh ye gods where's Half-mage?_

As if on cue the boy scrambled in, out of the fog, managing only to just get into view before being butted heavily by a fourth stallion. For a second he lay dormant in the mud, before blearily raising his head.

_Thank the gods. _Celeste though, sighing with relief. _ I never thought I'd be this happy to see Half-mage._

"Half-mage!" She called to the boy. "Are you okay?"

The boy nodded weakly, though Celeste wasn't completely sure he was telling the truth.

_We can't fight them, we don't have time, we have to get a quick fix. Magic... ye gods, as much as I hate to admit it, we really need magic right now._ Celeste bit her lip, looking to Half-mage.

"Half-mage... Half-mage you have to listen to me now, okay?" Celeste's voice was shaking with anxiety as she spoke, her hands trembling. She had no idea when the next attack would come, or where from. It was impossible to see in the fog, an attack could come from any direction without warning. "Half-mage.. Sh-.. Shane you have to cast a fire spell."

"What?" If Celeste could see the boy's face she swore it would have been white. " Celeste, I can't do that I.. I already tried! It didn't work."

"It scared those wolves off." Celeste persisted. "All we need is a little spark."

"Couldn't Maric..." The boy began.

"Maric isn't in any condition to be casting spells right now." She swallowed hard."We don't have time for this.. just.."

"but.. Celeste.."

"Just do it!" The thief girl was near shouting now. For a second the half-mage looked as if he'd been slapped, but it was just as well. He'd have deserved it.

At once the boy launched into the fire incantation, his eyes closing as he fell into a deep trance.. For the moment, Celeste was alone, if anything happened, the boy would be completely oblivious to it happening. Completely... At once there was the sound of hooves. Cloven feet upon the soft muddy ground. Celeste stood, fearing the worst, and at once, the worse came. From behind her, at a moment's notice, the largest, dappled horse came charging in, it's full weight slamming into Celeste like a ton of bricks. Her breath caught in her throat, at once the images around her flickering out into nothing. She didn't even have time to wish that she had seen it, before she knew what had happened, she was out cold.

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The world was cloudy, and vague. Greens blended with browns, blended with reds and yellows, and finally into blacks, but no shapes, no real figures could be discerned. Only an array of dazzling colors, one after the next, accompanied only by a dull pounding that Stephon could feel at the back of his head. He groaned, blinking a few times to try to clear his vision, but to no avail. At once a sweeping bout of nausea hit him, and he swallowed hard, fighting to choke back bile that was rising in his throat. Luckily, it passed quickly, Stephon sighed, closing his eyes again and trying to concentrate.

_Ye gods, what happened here?_ Stephon wondered. His legs were like jelly, like useless attachments to a useless body. He felt as though he'd been asleep for years. His memory left him for a second, at the moment not seeming important. Unimportant, that is, until it washed back over him like a tidal wave.

_The fight!_ Stephon's eyes flew open again. Now the shapeless forms weren't quite as shapeless, and were rapidly morphing into trees and brush. _What happened? Oh, ye gods, they must be miles from here right now. All three of them. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have... oh ye gods I shouldn't have done so many of the things I did I..._ He looked around once again. _How long have I been asleep?_

In a cold sweep of horror, the knight realized that indeed he may have been asleep for years. Possibly days, possibly weeks. Frantically he looked around, squinting through the dappled autumn leaves, searching for some sign to show what time of day it might be. _Ye gods, how long have I been asleep? _ Panic set in, but at once, Stephon took a deep breath, calming himself.

_This isn't helping. _He told himself. _Half-mage may not be very good at magic, but that one spell he does know is extremely potent... even more potent than the last time I was under... ye gods... _ He shook his head. _This changes nothing. As long as I'm still alive I must preserve. If... If I really have been sleeping for years, I must return to Corneria at once and announce that I am, in fact, still alive. _

He attempted to right himself, but at once found that doing so was suddenly made rather impossible. This entire time Stephon had been sitting slouched against a slender sapling, the diameter of it's trunk just about a foot in length, and only now did he notice that his hands had been securely bound behind his back, and in turn, around the tree trunk. Stephon's heart sunk.

_The rope... that's what he wanted it for. _ At once astonishment turned into slight pin pricks of rage. _You coward, as if hiding behind magic wasn't enough. You really don't know what you'd do if I _did_ come after you. Maric, mark my words the next time we meet you will die. _ At once Stephon struggled to try to get to his feet, only to find his ankles bound just as tightly as his hands. _I'll commend you though, mage. You are efficient._

Stephon gritted his teeth, at once straining his hands against his bonds in hopes of pulling free. The rope cut into his wrists, rubbing them raw, but he payed that little heed, instead, straining only harder to pull his hands free, working the rope back and forth in hopes of finding some kind of give. Unfortunately, no such luck was given to him, and after a couple good minutes, he was left no better off than he'd started, with bleeding wrists to boot.

_Blast it. _ Stephon lowered his head in defeat, and momentary fatigue. _Is this it? I've been bested by a mage and a piece of rope? No... no I won't take that. I'm not going to just waste away tied to a tree, there has to be a way to get out of this..._

At once a faint rustle in the bushed caught the knight's attention. A chill crept down him spine. _Forest imps? _

It must be, they had to be imps, the brush was low, too low for a wolf. Either it was that, or a small animal, but with the way Stephon's luck had been going lately, he knew it wouldn't be rabbits that were plaguing the brush around him. A little shrunken head popped out of the brush, followed by a dirty little loincloth clad body. _Yes... forest imps. _ Stephon shook his head. He's have been more afraid if this situation didn't fit so well in with all the others he'd encountered after leaving Corneria. Just one misfortune after another.

_Or, maybe it's not a misfortune. _ At once a thought struck Stephon, and he half smile, counting himself so cleaver to have thought of it. _ Forest imps are armed with knives. If I can just kill one of them I'll be able to take the knife and free myself._

More and more forest imps were crawling from the brush now, sizing up their rather helpless foe with greed in their beady little eyes. For a second Stephon felt rather uneasy. _It could be rather difficult to fend off imps without use of my arms.. or my legs for that matter._

At once one of the larger imps presumably got tired of waiting and lunged at Stephon full front. He twisted away, so that the imp caught his armor clad elbow with it's knife rather than gaining a clear shot at his neck. At once they all burst forth, far too quickly for Stephon to even take time to think about how to react. He flinched away, twisting his head away to try and protest his face and neck, but that didn't much stop them from taking the opportunity to sink their blades into soft flesh. Mainly the face, but Stephon noticed that one came mere inches away from sticking it's knife square in the middle of it's throat, deciding at the last second to favor the mouth instead. That blow sent a particularly painful flash of lights before the knight's eyes, but at the very least it didn't kill him.

There were imps behind him too, he could feel him hacking away at his hands, his upper arms which were still a bit raw from wolf bites the day before, and the wrists. _The ... wrists?_ At once Stephon took a second to think on that. _ If they're cutting that then they must also be cutting rope. _

Calling upon one final burst of energy, Stephon again strained against the ropes. They gave a sharp snap and at once Stephon jumped to his feet, practically flinging imps off his chest and his face, wiping blood from about a dozen cut marks now adorning his features.

His legs were still bound, and thus, still a problem, but for right now, he had at least accomplished one thing: his arms were free, and that was an important step. Stephon reached to his belt, a stroke of good fortune finally finding him as he realized his sword was indeed still in it's sheathe. _At least they gave me that. _ Stephon thought, smirking, cutting the ropes that bound his ankles as well._ Thank you Maric._

Upon drawing his weapon, it was mere seconds before at least half of the imps were dead. The other half following soon after. Sighing, Stephon sank to his knees, panting and breathless, blood trickling down his cheeks from still open wounds. _I really need a potion right now. _ Stephon thought ruefully, wiping a few of the rivulets away, only for them to reappear seconds later. _Or... no... no I can't rely on things like that anymore. Magic, potions, I don't need anything like that. I don't need them, I don't need.. anyone. _ At once a horrible lonely feeling crept over Stephon.

_Everyone at the castle thinks I'm dead. Sara probably is dead now, Talon, who knows, and the Light Warriors... they want me dead. _ Stephon shook his head, at once feeling utterly unwanted. He staggered to his feet. _ That's no reason to give in. They gave me a second chance, I'm going to use that._

At once he began walking, not quite sure what he was looking for, and only hoping that he would find it soon, what ever _it_ was. His vision was blurred, possibly from a cut made a little too close to his right eye, and he felt just about as stable upon the ground as the autumn leaves were on their branches, but even more annoying than that was the utterly gripping feeling in his stomach. _ It's been three days and I've barely eaten. _ He realized at once, feeling fatigue once again gripping his limbs. _Basic survival first, I'll never make it back to Corneria alive like this. _

He scanned the area. There were a couple of bushes baring fruit. It was late in the year, so there wasn't much around, but little was better than none. One of the bushes sprouted bright red berries, appetizing, but there was a foreboding lack of thorns on the bush, with leaves looking very much like that of a poisonous bush. _Tempting really. _ Stephon said mentally. _But, I really have to pass here._

He kept on walking at once stopping before a bright stream. The water seemed clean enough, and at least would provide drink. _Maybe I'm not all that unlucky after all._

There were a couple of bushes growing nearby, these adorned with fruit as well, and luckily, with thorns. A third bout of good will. _Maybe the gods haven't written me out just yet. I'll come through this._ The berries were sour in taste, but better than nothing, and Stephon picked the bush dry, not exactly feeling satisfied when he was finished, but at least he wasn't about to fall faint any more. Feeling a bit more like himself, the knight stumbled over to the pond, splashing his face with cool flowing water, washing caked, and in some places, free flowing blood off of his face. At length he peered into the water, watching his reflection forming.

The first thing he thought was. _Wow, I'm really a mess. If I do make it back to Corneria it'll be a wonder if anyone recognizes me._ _Even Talon. _At length he watched his reflection rippling before him, and at once he realized something didn't seem quite right. _I haven't aged a day. _ He realized, feeling the short bristly stubble on his chin. _It's as if I've only been asleep for a few hours. _He blinked. _Well this is half-mage's magic we're talking about. It probably only has been a few hours at most... meaning..._

Once again hope rose within him. _Meaning I'm not too late! I can still save Lady Sara if I hurry. I've lost a bit of ground but..._ He smirked, at once reaching back to cut the leather cords that held his armor together. On his own, he would need stealth, and speed, not armor to shield himself from blows. Metal breast plates, leggings, armlets, all of that would have to go. At last an iron shell lay glistening in the sunlight, and Stephon felt light as a feather, retaining only a shirt of chain and his sword.

At once a rush of energy filled him, whether it was pure adrenaline or the fact that he had some food in his stomach again he wasn't sure, but he did know that once he started running he didn't stop until he could see the trees beginning to thin. _The end of the forest. _ Stephon marveled. _They really didn't try very hard at this, did they? _ At once he remembered that only about an hour ago he was tied to a tree with a bunch of forest imps mauling him. _You know, maybe it's a good thing that they didn't try that hard. Plus going too far in would make them loose ground, it makes sense that they would try going shallow._

Stephon was sure he hadn't been running for more than an hour more when he burst from the trees into a wide stretch of land. Across the way there was a large marsh, completely covered in fog. Stephon bit his lip. _I'm going to have to go through that... aren't I?_ He thought, hesitantly creeping up to the mass of mist.

Up close it was even more foreboding, misty, foul smelling, on top of looking extremely difficult to move in. _This is for Princess Sara. _He reminded himself. _I must prove my worthiness to King Leo here. If I go home empty handed now, I'll be looked on as a coward, even if she is saved. I can't have that. This is just going to have to be my trial._

Hesitantly he stepped into the muddy swamp, taking a few steps forward. The mud suckled at his feet, and inside he could barely see a foot before him, but he pressed forward.

There were noises everywhere. All around him there were voices. The light warriors? Maybe. He kept his sword drawn at all times, anticipating the worst. With one step it was Celeste's knife against his neck. The next, it was Shane's soft, whispering voice, chanting a sleep spell. Another still, and Maric had his sword pointed at Stephon's throat, this time, his eyes no longer flickering with doubt as they had before. This time, he would go for the kill, this time they all would. _ Funny. _Stephon smirked. _I guess for a second I nearly forgot what it was like being their enemy._

That thought stirred his heart. _Their enemy. I'm their enemy now? _He shook himself _Well of course I am. There was never a time when I wasn't. I'm the one who was going to kill them eventually. They're the ones who were allies to me, not the other way around. _At once that tugging feeling of guilt hit him. _What have I done?_

Again Stephon shook himself, looking ahead. For a second he'd taken his eyes off the path; what could end up being a grave mistake in his case. _They aren't important. What happens to two mages and a thief is for practically no importance. The real importance lies in the survival of the princess, and of myself. _

That utterly isolated feeling was creeping back upon him now. Truly, he felt vulnerable, and naked without the other warriors to cover him, and lacking his armor. He felt himself, more than once now, near wishing he hadn't tried to kill the vagabonds in the middle of the night. If he had waited, or if he hadn't killed them at all, maybe things would be different. _But they aren't_ Stephon told himself, _Are they?_

At once from near out of nowhere a swift, bullet like object came hurtling towards the object. Out of sheer reflex and luck, he caught the object with his sword, and was shocked to find two even halves of forest imp lying in the mud before him, it's musty brown blood upon his sword, and blackening the water around him. _ What?_ Stephon looked around. W_hat in the five hells was that? Imps don't move that fast, do they?_

At once there came the projection of another one out of the fog. Stephon side stepped this one, spinning around to face the creature, but only being able to catch a slight glimpse of it before it was hurtling towards him again. It was indeed a forest imp, but a rather peculiar looking one. This one was clad in gray as opposed to green and brown, and it's structure was just a little slighter than that of the previous forest imps. Slighter, but faster, and far stronger from the looks of it. _Imps of the swamps I suppose. _ Stephon thought. _Gray imps. I've heard about these before. Nasty little creatures. _ Again Stephon found one hurtling towards him. He raised his blade, nicking it on the side as it passed. _Fast but still stupid._

The creatures stood still for a moment, it's near human like hands clutching the wound Stephon had given it. Stephon smirked. _It's done for. Imps aren't very resilient. A blow like that is instant death._

The creature staggered for a second more, only taking one more second to turn, glaring at Stephon. At once it jumped forward again, knife brandished in it's hand. Stephon gave a small cry, startled, and only just raised his blade in time to sever the foul creature's head. _More resilient than I thought. _Stephon thought, smirking. _Good you'll be a challenge then._

Stephon stood still for a second, waiting for more imps to attack him, but around him, all was quiet. _Is that all?_ Stephon hesitated. There had to be more. Two imps was barely anything, but as the seconds passed, he realized that this was more than likely the case. Hesitantly, Stephon took a few steps forward, sword clutched tightly in his hands. Nothing happened. Relief flooded Stephon at once, maybe there was no danger after all.

He took another few steps, at last lowering his blade. Things were finally starting to go his way. In fact, the fog was finally starting to part, the land just beyond becoming slightly visable. Another step, and at once the terrain changed in a way Stephon hadn't anticipated or even remotely considered happening. The ground was hard. Stable. _Am I already out of the swamp?_ That didn't seem likely, but Stephon generally didn't care what was likely or not. He was out of that infernal place, and that was a relief in itself.

He came a few steps further. The grass beneath his feet was still very muddy and covered with a film of water, but that didn't bother him. What did was when a slight brown or orange tinge began to mingle with the greens and browns of the earth. Unnaturally bright, just about the consistency of blood. Human blood. Stephon shuddered. There were only three other humans out here beside him that he knew of and they were... _ Probably far away by now. _ Stephon assured himself, trying to calm his churning stomach. _Maybe this is the remnants of a battle. Just a little, messy but nonfatal wound from one of those Gray Imps. Nothing to be... oh ye gods!_

Stephon's entire train of thought broke off into a state of panic as soon as the next part of the valley came into view. The thin trickle of blood slowly turned into a trail, that eventually led up to the battered, and sickeningly still body of Celeste the thief girl, who was white as marble, her sickly looking face splattered with mud and dried blood.

"Celeste!" He knew his cries would be heard by no-one, but still he couldn't help shouting the thief girl's name, rushing to her side. _Did.. did they turn on her too?_ Stephon wondered, looking the girl over cautiously. On the outside, other than scars left over from past battles, there were no real wounds, or burn marks, or anything that would point to either Maric or Shane harming the girl. It more looked like she'd been hit with a blunt object like a hammer, or something hard, but what could do that? Who would do that?

"Celeste, come on woman, get a hold of yourself." He gave the girl a sharp shake. There was no response. "Celeste, answer me, you will answer when you're spoken to, now will you... oh ye gods..."

_I don't understand, did they just leave her here?_ Stephon wondered, rolling the girl's limp body over so that she lay flat on her back. She was still breathing, though her breaths were shallow, and came with some difficulty. Her hands were clammy and cold, but she was obviously still alive. _They have phoenix down on them. Why on Gaia would they leave her for dead out here? Unless..._

His questions were answered before he could even start to ponder them. Only feet away from Celeste, now visible from the ever retreating fog, lay the two mages, Maric lying crumpled at an odd angle, and Shane lying on his side. _Oh ye merciful gods._

He rushed over to the two of them stooping down to their level as he had with Celeste. He had to wonder if Maric or Celeste was worse off. The right side of the Red mage's head was swollen up to about twice its size, and blood still trickled from his mouth. It was a wonder such a blow hadn't simply snapped his neck. Most likely, he had been thrown off balance from the incoming blow and started to fall just before what ever hit him collided with his head. It was a miracle that he had lived.

Shane didn't look quite as bad as either Maric or Celeste. He wasn't bleeding badly, and fidgeted every so often as if struggling to carry on. In fact, it looked as if he might have been conscious. Gingerly, he gave the boy a small shake.

"Half-mage?" He whispered trying to be as soothing as he could towards the little black mage.

The boy gave a startled cry, looking back at Stephon, his eyes widening even more in fear. He near bolted up, but fell back to the soggy ground a second later, howling with pain. Again, he began struggling to inch away from Stephon, his eyes wide with terror.

"Calm down, boy." Stephon grabbed the half-mage by the shoulders, pinning him in place. He winced slightly, his body tensing even more with the physical contact from the knight. "I'm not going to hurt you. Now stop moving before you hurt yourself."

"I... I-I... Sir Carris?" Shane's eyes softened now, and he relaxed in Stephon's grip. "H-how did you? Wh-what?"

"I don't know. If I can tell you one thing it's that you didn't help much, but that's not important right now." Stephon dismissed the boy, looking back at the two other wounded light warriors. "Now, what in the five hells happened here."

"Th-there were... horses..." The boy gasped, his voice was low, and it seemed to be a struggle to speak. "They're still out.. somewhere... I... I don't know what.. w-what happened.. but..."

"Horses?" Stephon raised an eyebrow. _Maybe he got hit a little too hard. I suppose it would explain some things of horses were the problem but... all the way out here?_

The boy nodded, whimpering softly. Just because he wasn't in as rough shape as the other two warriors didn't mean Shane was any less hurt than any of the others, from the way he moved so gingerly it looked as if he'd broken a few ribs. Nothing a bit of healing magic couldn't fix, but right now Maric was out of commission. _I have to find the supply bag first. Without phoenix down we're just about done for._

"Come on boy, can you stand?" Stephon was answered with a slow shake of the head. "Alright then..."

He stooped down scooping the boy into his arms, being careful not to injure him any more than he already was. He was remarkably light, lighter than he looked, and that was saying quite a bit.

"S-sir Carris!" Shane cried out, struggling slightly against Stephon's grip. "What a-... are you..?"

"It isn't safe here." Stephon answered, looking around. There seemed to be no end to the watery mass of land anywhere in sight. "If there really are monsters, you can't stay here."

Shane nodded, settling into Stephon's grip slightly. He still seemed a bit wary of Stephon, and rightfully so. _I did try to kill him, after all. _He frowned _So why am I helping him now?_

Before Stephon could fully think on that line of thought something hard and forceful hit him in the back with about the speed and force of a cannon ball. He flew forward, only just about having the time to turn himself so that he didn't come down full force of top of the wounded half-mage he was holding. Shane gave a small yelp, groaning in pain and clutching at his chest as he did, coughing blood. For a second, Stephon's vision blurred, focusing only a second later to find a brown stallion standing a foot away, snorting and giving a warning glare to the knight. Stephon recoiled, half in shock, and half in disbelief.

"So there are horses out here." He said aloud. "Well then, this might get interesting." He drew his sword, brandishing it slowly.

"Sir Carris! Don't...!" Shane's cried fell on deaf ears as Stephon lunged at the horse, his blade held aloft to spear the animal through the neck.

The animal lowered it's head, coming at Stephon far faster and with much more force than how Stephon charged at it. At the last second he dove out of the way, his sword cutting the air. _Bolder than I thought._ Stephon noted. _Alright, so you're a valiant animal, but are you smart?_ At once a second jolt to the middle of the back sent Stephon reeling, again. He gasped, loosing his breath momentarily, only to find another horse standing above him. _Two!? There are two of them?_ He cried mentally. _That's not right._

"S-sir Carris! Get out of here!" Shane was crying out, again trying to struggle to his feet and failing miserably. "Please, don't risk this!"

One of the horses reared, Stephon rolled out of the way, finding himself much nimbler without having all those pounds of sheet metal strapped to him, but that sacrificed a lot of protection to do so. Those last couple of blows had hurt much more than Stephon was used to._ No matter. _At once the knight made a stab, piercing one of the beasts' flesh, but that did nothing to slow the enraged animal down. In fact it seemed only to enrage the animal more as it charged Stephon another time, knocking him back over. The other one charged back at him, nearly sticking a cloven hoof in his stomach, but at the last minute Stephon rolled out of the way, slashing one of the great animal's legs while doing so. The horse collapsed, baying wildly.

_Good._ A triumphant feeling filled Stephon as he stood, narrowly missing being bowled over by his other foe. _One down that means there's only one left._ That feeling of triumph, however, was short lived. Almost immediately Stephon could see two other horses coming from out of the fog, approaching at a rapid pace. _Ye gods how many of these damned animals are there out here?_

A muscular, hoofed leg shot back like a hammer, catching Stephon in the side, just about clipping him, but despite that, he doubled over, seeing stars momentarily, his sword dropping to the ground. The other two were on him presently now, encircling him. _I have to retreat. _ He looked around frantically. _But where, how, where to. If I just had some way to distract them or... _A smile spread over the knight's face. _Or to scare them. Horses are easily frightened, fire would frighten any animal, and if noxious smoke can scare off a pack of wolves, it can easily scare off horses too._

"Half-mage!" Stephon cried, diving for his sword, and missing by a few inches, being forced to dodge out of the way before he was charged by one of the stallions. "Fire spell! Now!"

"What?" Shane's voice was weak, and Stephon had to strain his ears to hear what the boy was saying. "Sir.. Sir Carris I.. I d-don't thi-... think..."

"That wasn't a request boy!" Stephon cried rolling out of the way of another kick, only to nearly be trampled. "Work quickly will you?"

"I.. I can't!" the Half-Mage called back. "I... I tr-tried be.. fore, it didn't..work."

"Well try again!" Stephon cried, diving for his sword once more. He felt the cold metal in his hands, and sighed with relief upon having a weapon in his hands again. He rolled over, slashing at a horse's underbelly, but he missed, only just grazing the surface. He was being pushed back now. Behind him there was an area where the ground had suddenly given out, making way for a large murky expanse of water. Horses couldn't follow him in, but at the same time, he couldn't swim in chain mail and hardly had enough time between blows to take it off.

"Sir, I.. I really d-... don't think..." Shane began again.

"Shane I really don't have time for this." Stephon cried. "As far as I know, you're the reason I'm in this mess, so are you going to help me, or are you going to sit there and let me get killed for your sake, just like all the other Light Warriors did?"

Shane went silent immediately, and Stephon heaved a sigh. _Time for plan B_ He thought,_ Maybe if I can lure them into charging me I can duck out of the way and get them to rush into the water. That would at least stall them so I can get away. _ He took a step back, feeling the back of his heel slip off of the solid ground. _Easier said than done, of course._

Readying his sword, The knight charged, slashing one of the horses across the nose while it wasn't looking. He was immediately charged by another sent flying back, only inches away from the water. Immediately he bolted upright, ignoring the protests of his tired body, and struck again , only again to be blown back, this time without doing any damage what so ever. The images around him were again becoming blurry and vague, and for a second, he was sure he would pass out right there. He staggered putting a hand to his head only to be sent back to the ground moments later, watching the world shake and spin before him. How many horses where there now? Ten? Twenty? Five? It was hard to tell. One was dead, or at least too injured to fight, but the others, there were so many, too many, what was happening? Stephon couldn't tell. He could tell even less when a small voice cried "_Thunder"_

There was a loud cracking noise, like an earth shattering explosion, and a bright flash of light that was gone as soon as it came and left Stephon wondering if he'd seen it at all. There was a frenzy, a loud din of baying irrupted, and at once all three stallions turned tail and fled, in their haste knocking Stephon backwards. Dark murky water enveloped him, wrapping around his limbs, a burst of freezing cold water momentarily stunned him as he sunk further and further towards the pond's rocky bottom. His chain mail dragged him down faster, and before Stephon could even think to try and struggle to the surface he had hit the bottom. It was dark all around him, impossible to see anything, and on top of that impossible to breathe, as he'd attempted before, only to end up with a lung full of water afterwards.

In any other case, Stephon was sure he would have been scared out of his mind, but at this point, the confusion and utter exhaustion of the battle before, and now the chill of the water, and the inability to breathe properly just made the knight tired, and made his head feel hazy and light. His limbs on the other hand felt as if they were full of lead. _Strange _Stephon noted mentally, as darkness began to envelop his mind. He realized only at the last second, that it would probably be the last thing he ever thought.

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"Sir Carris!" By the time Shane managed to make his way over to the place where Stephon had stood only seconds before, he was near completely exhausted, not to mention in pain. That was nothing new though, he'd been in pain before, and this was only a little worse than usual. The fact that it hurt to breathe was only a little distressing, and he managed to ignore the rattling in his chest when he spoke. Right now, his life wasn't the one in jeopardy, it didn't matter much how he felt.

He stared into the moss covered pond, made green from algae and other things that grew in still water. "Sir Carris! Can you hear me? Sir Carris, please come back!" He waited a few moments, watching the surface to see if Stephon's figure would pop up from beneath the green film. Much to the little mage's dismay, nothing happened, save for a couple of bubbles breaking on the surface.

_Ye gods what have I done?_ A look of horror crossed his face, a chill running down his spine. The words the knight had spoken to him only moments before echoed through his mind. "_You're the reason I'm in this mess, so are you going to help me, or are you going to sit there and let me get killed for your sake, just like all the other Light Warriors did?"_

_I killed him. _ Shane thought, horrified. _He's going to drown now, and it's my fault. I can't even try to help him since I don't know how to swim, and... and now they're all...all of them are gone._ He blinked. _ But no... no I... I can't be the only one left. No, Maric and Celeste, they have to be alright. _ As quickly as he could Shane half limped half crawled over to where Maric lay, light pained breaths being the only indication that the boy still lived. He looked as if he could have been dead. Easily he could have, and if not, he was just horribly broken.

"Maric?" It hurt even more to speak now, but he couldn't help trying to get the red mage to stir, in hopes that his friend would come to on his own. Maric, however made no reaction to his name being called. He tried again. "Maric are you okay?"

Again there was no reply. _I need phoenix down I... I can't give in just yet. If I work fast enough, I can save both Maric, and Sir Carris, _He nodded in confirmation to his thoughts, shakily rising to his feet._ To save Sir Carris, I'm going to need Maric's help, and I'm going to have to hope he knows how to swim... Or that he would be willing to help Sir Carris for that matter. _

He scanned the land a few times, at last spotting the supply bag a few meters away from where Maric was lying. He limped over to it, dragging the fairly heavy bag over to where Maric lay, pulling out a plume of phoenix down. He looked at the crimson feather, and then back at Maric hesitantly. _I really hope this works. _He thought, stooping down to where the red mage lay. He pressed the phoenix feather into Maric's chest with the palm of his hand, cupping his fingers over the ball of light that irrupted upon contact with the wounded mage. Blue-white light poured from between his fingers, and at last Shane realized he had to look away for fear of being blinded.

The light died, and at once the phoenix down was gone from beneath his fingers. For a second the red mage lay still, just as battered looking as ever, but after a second the boy twitched, his expression changing to one of fairly substantial pain. He groaned, gingerly fingering the swollen side of his head.

"Maric!" A hopeful flicker rose in Shane's chest, as well as a slight amplification of the pain he'd felt before, but at this point he ignored that. Maric was alright, the first part of his plan was finished.

"Ungh... ye gods..." Maric groaned in reply, struggling to sit up, and upon failing, decided laying back on the soggy soft ground was just as good. "What happened?"

"You're okay!" Shane wasn't quite sure how to react, eventually settling on hugging the boy gently. Gently only because he was sure they were both in too much pain for anything more than that. "Maric, I'm so..s-... so glad you're still alive."

"Shane?" Maric blinked a few times, looking back to Shane groggily as if unsure of what exactly was going on. "What... where did those accursed animals get to? Did they.." At once the boy's eyes went wide. "Shane, you didn't... did you...?"

"I scared them off, Maric." Shane accounted, feeling rather proud at the moment. The idea hadn't really had the chance to fully sink in, since he had been preoccupied with the fact that Stephon was drowning before, but he had indeed finally managed to cast a spell more complicated than a sleep spell. Quite a feat for him. He smiled broadly, he couldn't really help it. "I got it right, I... I finally casted a thunder spell correctly." 

"Ye gods! You came through for us." Maric's expression was a mixed one of surprise and joy. "I knew you would get it. Ye gods I knew you would!" His eyes were wide and excited, at once he embraced the boy, much harder than Shane had embraced him, and the little black mage was sure he could feel bone scraping against bone in his chest.

"Oww.." Shane could only just whimper in protest. He was touched by the affectionate gesture, but his chest still hurt regardless.

"Sorry." Maric pulled away from him, holding him out at shoulder length. "Are you hurt?" Shane nodded weakly. "Ye gods why doesn't anyone ever tell me these things."

As quickly as he'd said that, Maric started and cast a cure spell, laying a hand on the boy's chest, and cast one on himself afterwards, downing another potion on top of that.

"Where's Celeste?" Maric asked, staggering to his feet with Shane's help. "We need to get out of here before those horses come back."

_We can't leave yet._ A voice in the back of Shane's mind immediately sent the boy into a state of panic. _Stephon is still at the bottom of that pond. If he hadn't come, we would have all died. We can't just leave him there._

"Maric, wait." Shane protested, grabbing him by the cuff of his sleeve.

"Eh?" Maric turned to face him. "What's wrong."

"I..." Shane started. Where did he start. He didn't have time to explain everything. He didn't even know the whole story, all he really was sure of was that the fact that Stephon was going to die if he couldn't get Maric to do something about it. "I didn't do it on my own."

"What?" Maric furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about."

"Sir Carris came back. I don't know how, but he found us and he... he tried to help me get out of here, but then the horses came back... and..." Shane trailed off as Maric's expression became more and more doubtful. "When I cast that thunder spell it knocked him back into the pond over there. I couldn't have done it if he hadn't told me to and... and now he's going to drown we don't do something."

"You were seeing things Shane." Maric assured him. "You probably passed out and dreamed that Stephon came back, that's all. There's no way he could make up that much distance."

"But.. b-but.." Shane looked around frantically. _Maybe I was dreaming. _He thought. _He's right, how could Sir Carris find us after all that, and why would he want to help us? If it was the real Sir Carris he'd have killed me when he found out I was still alive. _

He stood, following closely to Maric as he made his way over to where Celeste lay. The girl stirred, mumbling something in her sleep.

"Good." Maric sighed. "She should wake up on her own with a bit of magic. Just a cure spell should do."

Shane nodded, at once looking back to the scum covered pond, where an imaginary Stephon lay dying, if not already dead beneath the murky surface. _It seemed so real. _ He thought. _It... I can't be dreaming. It just doesn't make sense. _ He looked about. _There must be some way to prove it wasn't a dream. I know I wasn't seeing things, I just. _ At once his eye caught the still dying body of the horse that Stephon had managed to injure. It still lay, baying in a pained voice every so often. _Sir Carris did that. I remember that, he managed to wound it when none of us could, so he must've been there, so that means..._

"Maric!" Shane cried, tugging the mage's sleeve again. He gave a startled cry, a premature spell dissipating in his hands.

"What is it now?" Maric asked, looking more than just a bit annoyed now.

"Maric I know Sir Carris was here." Shane said motioning to the wounded horse. "You two couldn't deal a scratch of damage to the mad horses when you fought them. Sir Carris did."

Maric looked from the horse to Shane a couple of times, mouth agape as if searching for something to say. "Shane I..." He sighed. "Look, Sir Carris is not one of us any more. Sir Carris tried to kill us all in our sleep. If he is drowning, and in all honesty, by now he's probably long dead anyway, I would do no more than I am now. It's just as well that he's out of our way."

"But Maric..." Shane was near appalled. This was the same attitude he'd taken before in the magic shop. In all honesty, he wanted to respect Maric as he did Clayton and Tori, and he would be able to if it wasn't for that one flaw. _Those who don't respect life haven't the right to live. _Those wereClayton's words, the tacit motto of the Brotherhood, never spoken but always understood, and the justification that had allowed him and so many others to live lives of violence.

_The Brotherhood doesn't matter anymore. _ Shane told himself. _Simply killing won't save anyone. _He looked over to the pond at the bottom of which Stephon presumably lay. _However there are other things that will._

He limped over to the water's edge, looking back to make sure Maric wasn't watching him. _Sir Carris, I don't know how to swim. _He said silently. _But if only to return the favor, I'm going to try for your sake. I hope this makes us at least kind of even. _Taking a deep breath of air he at once jumped into the pool of murky water.

The surface at once gave way beneath him, and he sank quickly and rapidly for a while, but after a few seconds seemed to be suspended half way between the surface and the ground below, floating as if weightless within the water. The water stung his eyes so he shut them tightly, opening them for a second to try and look at his surroundings, only to be met with wet greenish blur. He shut his eyes again, realizing at once that sight would do him no good.

_This really isn't all that bad. _Shane thought, near smiling. _Other than not being able to see properly, it's not all that bad down here. Like floating on clouds, being weightless. _

For a second, it was nearly euphoric, being lighter than air. It was shame there was no air to speak of beneath the briny water's surface, otherwise he could have stayed down there for hours. _I should look for Sir Carris. _He thought, attempting to open his eyes, only to find, again, that all it brought upon was a slight burning sensation. _How do I go down farther now? _He wondered, attempting push himself further down in the water, no such luck. _For that matter, how do I get back up?_

A horror filled thought struck him. _Wait.. how do I get back up to the surface? _He groped out, trying to catch his hand on something that he could use to push himself back out, but to no avail, his hands simply paddled the water around him. He tried to jump to propel himself upwards, but with no solid footing on the ground that turned out to be impossible. _Oh ye gods, I'm stuck down here. How do I get out? _Panic was beginning to fill the black mage, along with about a lungful of water that burned like fire in his chest. He coughed, a burst of bubbles floating up to the surface as he did, and he was met with only more water as he did. He was starting to sink again now, being pulled down even deeper. _What's going on? Why can't I move, this doesn't make sense._

He opened his mouth to cry out, but his voice was stolen by the pond as well. His cries came out warped and near unintelligible, near impossible to make out, and even more difficult to hear on the surface of the water. On top of that his lungs suddenly felt painfully empty, if not slightly filled with water. It was cold, near chilling beneath the water's surface, and his limbs were going numb, as well as his thoughts becoming blurred and vague. _Maric, I don't think I like this anymore._ He thought._ Maric where are you? Help me, please!_

He barely felt the tug on the back of his robe, slowly pulling him back up to the surface until he was near three quarters of the way back up. A strong hand had caught a hold of his collar, and now he ascended towards the surface at a rapid pace.

The green murky surface of the water parted, and at once he took in a large breath of air, coughing water in large bursts. He felt the hard, though wet ground beneath him, solid ground, he was thankful to be back upon it, and able to move, see, and breathe as he wished again. However, now his limbs felt limp and useless, and he felt he wouldn't be using his power to move very soon.

A very damp looking Maric knelt beside him on his hands and knees. Droplets of water streamed from his face and the tips of his hair, and he breathed hard for a second before turning to Shane, glaring at the boy coldly.

"What in the five hells is wrong with you?" Maric cried upon regaining his breath. "Are you really trying to kill yourself, because that's what it looks like. If this is a secret ambition of yours, let me know now, I'll take you up on it in a second."

"I'm sorry Maric." Shane looked at his now sopping wet companion, coughing a bit more water as he did. "I.. I don't know how to swim."

"Well I can see that." Maric grumbled in reply. "Why don't you tell me what else you can't do now? It'll save us all some time."

"Sir Carris is dying!" Shane cried in protest, ignoring Maric's rather cold hearted jab at his inability to use magic. "He could be dead now after all the time you've waisted."

"Shane, really." Maric sighed. "I don't care if Stephon dies. We've been over this."

"He saved our lives." Shane protested. _Those who have no respect for life have no right to live._ It was there again. The same thought sprung up in his mind, it was near impossible to keep down. _Maric, I tried to go along with you, I really did but.. _He pushed himself up from the soggy, damp ground now, his body suddenly growing very tense

"If you're thinking of going back down there I'm not going in after you." Maric warned turning away, ignoring the fact that the black mage was slowly growing more and more enraged.

"Those who don't respect life have no right to live." Shane growled, this time aloud. Maric spun around to face him again, confusion gracing his features._ I'm not a half-mage anymore Maric. I can show you what Sir Carris taught me._ The chant was already in his mind. _Kill him _ Something in the back of his mind was urging him. _He would let me die if he knew any more about me, he who has no respect for life itself. Take it from him. Show him how precious it really is. _

"Shane what in the five hells are you..." He trailed off, at once The black mage felt a pair of hands gripping him by the shoulders. Maric stared near bewildered at him. "Stop this now. Snap out of it, half-mage."

Shane blinked, suddenly startled as the bloodthirsty thoughts that had been in his mind up to this point vanished. A chant that had been on his lips without him knowing it faded away, and his hands, for a second glowing with magical power, went limp. He shuddered, his throat suddenly constricting. _Maric saved me. So many times he has, I can't... how could I think of..._ "Ye gods, Maric..." He near sobbed. "I'm sorry." _Maybe the one without respect for life is me. _

"Ye gods..." Maric grumbled. "If you're going to get so worked up about all this... Fine I'm going to go down there, and risk life and limb to save this man. I don't understand you. One second you're all in favor of my lopping the man's head off and now you want me to risk life and limb to save him? The day you make sense is the day hell really does freeze over."

Before Shane could even begin to comprehend what Maric was saying the red mage had again disappeared beneath the surface of the murky water. Shane shuddered again. _I suppose I never did get used to life outside the Brotherhood. _He thought. _This is going to take some work... and now I'm actually dangerous to a point._ _How the tides can turn. _

"Nngh.. What's going on...?" A bleary voice behind Shane alerted him to the fact that Celeste had woken up, probably under the influence of a couple well placed cure spells. "Half-mage?"

"Celeste?" He made his way over to the girl cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, just fine.." The girl groaned. "Get me a potion will you... urngh... where's Maric?"

Shane made his way over to the girl holding the supply bag. He fished out a potion, trying to come up with a way to explain Maric's sudden disappearance. "Err... that's a long story actually... I..."

Celeste grabbed the potion from his hands as soon as he pulled it from the bag, seeming fairly uninterested with what he was saying. It wasn't until Maric emerged from the pond a second time, this time holding a very limp looking Stephon that Celeste began paying attention. "Ye gods, is that Stephon?" The red mage near threw the knight down onto the solid ground, before slipping back beneath the surface himself.

"Maric!" Shane cried, running over to the red mage. His stomach was finally beginning to unwind itself. He stuck a hand down into the water, and was rather relieved to feel Maric's hand close around his. A second later, his head appeared above the water's surface.

"Th-thanks.." Maric spluttered, quickly lifting himself out of the pool of water before collapsing back upon the ground. "One day Shane, one day you're going to be the death of me, I know it."

"Don't say things like that." Shane said shuddering. Maric appeared to be oblivious to the fact that he moments before had nearly been driven to the point of killing him. For the moment this was a good thing, but a bit unsettling simply because Shane was quite positive it could happen again.

There was an uneasy silence, Maric presently was just trying to regain his breath again. Slowly attention was brought to Stephon, who lay rather motionless upon the soft ground now, lips slightly parted, though not drawing breath. He lay on his side, sprawled in what looked to be a rather uncomfortable position, his face was pale dripping with water, and his condition quite frankly didn't look very good.

"Is... is he?" Celeste's voice was hesitant as she approached the three of them, looking both confused and afraid.

Maric looked from Celeste to Shane a few times, looking a bit uncomfortable himself. He nodded sadly, an apologetic look on his face. "I think so. We were a bit too late. He still has a pulse but, I'm afraid that won't last long either."

"Sir Carris..?" Shane's voice sounded weak even to him. He approached the knight's unmoving form, searching for a sign of life and coming up short. "There has to be something we can do..."

"We still have one plume of Phoenix down left." Maric offered. "I guess we could use it."

A nervous air came over the three warriors. Their last phoenix down was their last lifeline. If anything happened to any one of them after that was gone they would die indefinitely. What if something really drastic happened that left them in need of phoenix down but possessing none? And for a man who betrayed them. Would it be worth it? Even Shane had to wonder.

"Do you want to?" Celeste asked. "I mean... do you want to give him a second chance?"

Maric sighed, looking from Shane to Celeste again hesitantly. "He came back for us." Maric said softly. "I'm going to trust you on this, Shane. Don't make me regret it." Shane nodded, knowing he wouldn't.

The red mage slowly pulled his last plume of phoenix down out of the supply bag, letting it fall on the knight's chest. Again the light of the phoenix feathers grew bright and brilliant, exploding into a vibrant array of lights and colors and at last fading into nothing. Immediately Stephon shot up as if stricken, his eyes wide and fearful. He doubled over coughing, pond water spilling from his lips, his arms clutching his chest. He took a couple deep breaths, at once falling to the soggy grass, shaking as if in shock. Fear and confusion crossed his features as he gazed up at the three light warriors who stood above him.

"What?" He asked, his voice was hoarse and strained. "H-how did you... you all were..." His eyes widened even further now, and he looked away. "Oh don't tell me.." He muttered. "I'm dead aren't I. I'm dead and this is hell and you're all here with me just to spite me."

"Not quite" Maric's sword sang out with the sound of metal on metal as it was pulled from it's sheathe and found it's spot at Stephon's throat. "You'll be there soon enough if you make another move without telling me what you're here for."

"Oh... ah.. Maric. You look well... or...ah... better than you were before at any rate. Caught a good break?" He smiled weakly, as if hoping Maric would take to his thinly veiled friendliness. The red mage simply hardened his eyes, glaring rather coldly at the bedraggled looking knight. "That's a yes, am I right?"

"What are you here for?" Maric repeated. "This is the last time I'll ask you."

Stephon sighed. "Then I'll be plain." He said, his mock cheerful air gone. "You may have bested me in combat by some mere trick of the gods, but hear this, my quest is far from over since I've failed to kill you. I swore I would rescue princess Sara, my fiancée, from the fiend Garland, and I intend on keeping that oath. Whether or not you three are there behind me is of little consequence."

"You said this morning that the quest was a farce. A ploy to get the three of us out of the way." Maric said coolly. "Now you act as if it wasn't. I want the whole truth, Carris."

"The whole truth." Stephon shifted a bit uncomfortably. "The whole truth is what I've just told you. This quest was indeed nothing more than a suicide mission, I was supposed to kill you three when we left Corneria. That was the original plan, but I got caught up in a plan of my own. I didn't want to leave the princess's life in the hands of some bumbling battalion sent by the queen. If I am to be the king of Corneria one day, I wanted to prove that I myself am strong myself, and can save the princess on my own, that I can be a ruler to be looked up to and respected, not one who simply allows other men to take on work for him."

"Then why did you attempt to kill us?" Maric's harshness was subsiding now. Though his voice was still strong, his rapier was no longer held as steady in his hand, and his expression was softening.

"Well that was..." Stephon started, looking a little flustered now. "That is to say... I didn't really..." Maric's expression hardened again, and Stephon stopped. "The whole truth right?" He sighed. "I was afraid. Three against one. What you said that first night was so true. If any of you were to rebel against me, I wouldn't stand a chance. I didn't want to take that chance, and at first I thought I could live with it. Eventually it just drove me mad. After a while I started hearing things, I could swear I was losing my mind. I didn't understand why you didn't attack me, I didn't understand it and I still don't, and after coming so far, I didn't want to lose my life to mages in the night. " There was a short pause, as a heavy silence weaved in through the four warriors once again.

"That isn't to say I wouldn't have killed you." Stephon said softly. "Maric, if you hadn't listened to Half-mage and stayed awake last night, I'd have killed you there. I'd have regretted it, but regretting a kill won't bring back the dead. Up until then, when I was sure after the princess was safe, I planned I would kill any of you that happened to survive the battle with Garland. I..." He trailed off for a second. "I couldn't have done it."

"What?" Maric frowned, now near completely lowering his sword.

"Maric, if I had been successful in killing you three, I think it would have been the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life." Stephon admitted. "Criminals or not, I'd never be able to forgive myself."

Maric's sword drooped to his side now, and he stood silent and still, eyes averted from Stephon's.

"I won't be a burden to you three any longer." Stephon said, righting himself. He swayed ominously for a second before regaining his balance and standing straight. With only chainmail on he looked quite a lot less menacing, even standing at full height. His body was toned and muscular, but he no longer seemed larger than life and godlike. He was simply Stephon, no longer the great and imposing Sir Carris Shane had known. "My quest doesn't end here."

"Wait!" Maric cried. Stephon turned, raising an eyebrow. "We are headed in the same direction aren't we? What's the point in going separately if our destinations are the same?"

"What?" Stephon really did look confused now.

"We made a deal before." Celeste explained. "The Princess will obviously be indebted to us when we return her to Castle Corneria. We figure not only will we be free, there's also bound to be some monetary gain for us. What ever we get we'll split three ways."

"And if King Leo refuses?" Stephon asked.

"That's what ransoms are for." Celeste chirped a little too cheerfully.

"Celeste." Maric hissed, glaring at the girl.

"That's.. that's despicable!" Stephon exclaimed. "Completely awful, I might need to rethink this."

"Don't worry there aren't going to be any ransoms." Maric said quickly shooting a dirty look at Celeste. "I'll make sure of that."

"Well... in that case..."Stephon near smiled, relief evident on that case. He smirked. "I'll have to think about it. I'm not sure if this is a worthy enough cause to lend my sword to."

Shane's jaw nearly hit the ground. "S-Sir Carris!" He cried.

"You just want to see us beg, don't you?" Celeste accused flatly.

"No." Stephon said, his voice taking on a an overly haughty tone. " I just want to see if you want my help enough."

"You think you can kill Garland without us?" Maric asked. Stephon nodded. "No healing magic, no potions, no food, no campfires at night." Stephon's smirk wavered. "Besides that you're open to all sorts of attacks at night. Imps, wolves, horses, all those nice things. Spirits too, and you don't want to know what those things will do to you. Like how they can suck your eyes out of your head while you sleep and force you to walk the world blind."

Celeste shuddered. "You never told me that!"

"You were scared enough already." Maric pointed out. "No need to add to the fact that they can steal your soul while you're not looking."

"Alright!" Stephon cried. "I'll let you three come with me." There was a silence. Stephon flushed, clearing his throat before covering for himself. "I.. I mean.. You may be valuable assets in my quest."

"I thought so." It was Maric's turn to smirk now.

"So, Sir Carris is one of us again?" Shane asked hopefully.

"Only if he proves himself." Maric replied. "But it looks like that isn't much of a problem anymore."

The uncertain air that had once hovered over the warriors of light dissipated as they were, once again, the four light warriors. For the first time Shane felt he could possibly trust the men that stood beside him, and his smiled. _Maybe Maric is right. Maybe this Warrior of Light thing isn't really so crazy after all._

_**Daang... I didn't realize how long this chapter was until I put it into a separate word file. It could eat about three of my earlier chapters and have room for seconds.**_

_**Something, isn't it?**_

_**Well, thanks for reading, and click the shiny green button below to make a little pichu very very happy. =3**_

_**Surfingpichu over and out.**_


	13. Chapter 12: The Dark Knight

_**Hey guys guess what? I updated! *comical tumbleweed* Well.. y'know... I did.**_

_**So, that's great right? I want to thank Zippy Zipper for reviewing and for miscellaneous awesomeness. Thanks for reviewing, you gets a cookie. =3**_

_**I'm going to state right now, this chapter is a bit shorter than the others. Right now I've hit a bout of writers block and am behind on my next chapter (literally, I've re-written it three times thus far and I still can't get it right. So much hate) **_

_**Ah well, it'll come when it comes right? Anyway, enjoy!**_

_**Chapter 12: The Dark Knight**_

The day was still in it's earliest when Stephon awoke, though not to imps or wolves or anything that would fit in with the ordeals that had plagued him in these last couple of days. A full meal and a good few potions had made him feel a bit more at ease, and quite a bit more comfortable, and being able to sleep all night had truly been a blessing in itself. He had to imagine it was not really any kind gesture of the other warriors, and that instead the reason for his failure to have a shift standing watch for the night was more because none of the other light warriors trusted Stephon much farther than they could throw him, and judging by the amount of strength each light warrior possessed, he had to imagine that wasn't very far.

This morning Stephon was not awake to ponder plans of attacks on his teammates, or to fend off unfriendly beasts of the forest. Tonight he simply thought idle thoughts, thinking back on the events of the few days past, trying to quell his churning stomach, and forget that when day broke he would find himself face to face with the most powerful knight in Corneria. He shuddered to think of the ways Garland might know to utterly mutilate and humiliate the team of four, and he had to wonder how the other three could sleep so soundly and be so calm.

_Maybe it isn't the fact that they're confident in their abilities to defeat Garland. _Stephon mused. _Perhaps it's just the fact that they have absolutely no idea who or what they're dealing with. Ignorance is bliss I suppose._

Celeste was still awake, on her guard, but she payed little attention to the fact that Stephon even existed. Of the three of them she seemed the most reluctant to welcome him back into the group. Again, that was within good reason, and Stephon had far more trouble comprehending why the two mages had been so eager to welcome him back.

Battles of the past few days flashed through Stephon's mind as he thought on the battle against Garland. None of them really looked promising. The battles against the wild horses, the wolves, the imps, each time they'd nearly been killed, and that was against mere woodland creatures and common monsters, not trained knights instructed fully in the arts of killing.

_I'm leading them to their deaths. _Stephon thought bitterly. _Some leader I am. Who leads their troops into a battle that can't be won? They don't have to do this. They could escape with their lives. _

He looked at the two sleeping figures beside him. _Why? _He asked them silently. _Why do you insist on letting yourselves die? Why won't you do what you can to save yourselves? _

Stephon's heart gave a lurch. _I can't do this. _He thought, sitting up straight. His hands shook with tremors for reasons beyond his comprehension. _I can't decide not to kill them only to later lead them to their deaths. What difference would it make otherwise? I'll.. I'll have to go to the temple without them._

He looked upon the three other warriors sorrowfully, a pang of loneliness creeping over him. _That would mean having to leave them behind. Wouldn't it? _He thought. Again Stephon would have to go alone, without the company of the other warriors to keep him from driving himself mad with fear. They were only a few miles from the temple of fiends now, it wouldn't be a long walk, but it would be a rather lonesome one.

Stephon sat up straight, looking from Warrior to warrior once more. _Maybe it'll be easier if I just leave. _He thought. _It's going to be difficult to explain why I can't take them to battle Garland with me. I should probably just go. _

He sat up, righting himself, and getting up, checking his sword to make sure it was still in it's proper place. He took one last look around, and began to walk through the dense forest.

"Where do you think you're going?" Celeste's voice stopped Stephon in his tracks. The knight flinched, biting him lip. _I forgot about her. _

"N-nowhere, honest." Stephon lied, turning around, and raising his hands in the air. The knife that the thief girl had pulled dropped to her side, and she advanced upon the knight slowly, like a fox stalking it's prey.

"Oh?" Celeste asked. "And then why would you be awake at this time of night?"

"I was stretching my legs a bit Celeste." Stephon replied, though his could feel his face growing hot. "Honestly can't you go three seconds without accusing me of trying to betray you?"

Celeste smirked. "Don't raise your voice when you're lying." She advised him. "It makes you seem more tense; less believable." Stephon flushed, and Celeste's smile broadened. "Oh, and don't try lying to a thief."

"Be reasonable Celeste." Stephon stuck to his story adamantly. The thief girl strode over to him, causally laying a hand on his shoulder. "What reason would I have now to try running off on you?"

"That's what I'd like to know." She replied. Before Stephon knew what what happening a knife was circling the air around his ear. "Exactly what kind of plan did you come up with to kill us this time?"

"I'm not trying to kill you." Stephon cried, pulling away. "If anything my aim is to save you."

"What?" Celeste frowned, looking confused.

"If you three go up against Garland he'll kill you all in seconds." Stephon couldn't hide it any longer. He knew what had to be said to satisfy the thief girl's needs. "There is absolutely no chance you'll make it out alive. I... I don't want to see you three give up your lives for this."

"Not a chance," Celeste huffed, turning her back on the knight. Stephon raised an eyebrow. "This girl is my ticket to a life of luxury. If you think I'm giving this up now you're mad."

"It's gold you're after, right?" Stephon sighed. Reaching to his belt he removed one of the red leather pouches he carried that housed spare gil. Being careful to extract his father's crystal first, he tossed the bag to Celeste. The girl caught it deftly.

"If you think a little pouch of gold will make up for this you can think again." Celeste grumbled. "I may have seemed a petty thief to you, but I'm not so easily bought off."

"Look inside." Stephon grunted.

The girl did so, pulling out what seemed to be a small brass key. She looked up at Stephon, puzzled.

"That's the key to one of the treasure stores at Corneria castle." Stephon answered her tacit question. "I was meaning to return it to the royal treasurer, but I suppose the tides have turned. If you can get in, anything you can find you can keep. That's enough to win back your tarnished reputation isn't it? I suppose that may be a rather petty offering for such high losses, but if you can forgive me I'm assuming they'll do the same."

Celeste's face went a near pale white, accented fully by the moonlight."You... you're..." For a few seconds the girl was near speechless. "Are you mad? You'll never be able to show your face in Corneria again!"

Stephon's response left his lips before he himself could even start to understand it's meaning. "I'm not going back to Corneria."

For a second Celeste didn't seem to catch the meaning of his words. Only a second later did his meaning become painfully clear.

"You're mad." Celeste whispered, looking at Stephon with near disdain.

"If I am to be king I must be prepared to fight any battle." Stephon's response was relatively calm in comparison with Celeste's reaction. "If that means fighting a losing battle, so be it."

"There is a difference between fighting a losing battle and committing suicide." Celeste remarked. "You need us, Stephon. If this is about pride I suggest you swallow it, and stick with us."

"You shouldn't have to sacrifice yourselves for this." Stephon objected, his temper beginning to flare again.

"Neither should you." Celeste cried. There was a pained silence. "We came all this way Stephon, you can't tell me we've come this way for nothing."

"You've won your freedom." Stephon pointed out. "That's enough of a reason, isn't it? Now take your freedom and go. You've proven your innocence and your right to keep on living. You should have been free the moment I proved that I was a lower man than you three were, the fact that you are somehow still under me is a mere fluke." Celeste shifted uncomfortably. "Just get some rest. You can explain this to Maric and Half-Mage in the morning. There should be enough gil in that pouch for the three of you to catch a boat to just about anywhere. I suggest you take it."

Celeste sighed. "I don't understand this hero complex you all seem to have." She mumbled. "You, Maric, Half-Mage, I don't get it. It doesn't matter, but even so, you all puzzle me."

"When I meet you in Hell I'll tell you about it." Stephon said with a smirk, beginning to walk off into the dense forest, into the dark.

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"I can't believe he's actually gone." Shane's sorrowful voice was the first thing Maric heard upon drifting back to reality from the world of sleep. "Why would he just up and leave like that? I don't understand."

"Neither do I." Celeste's voice replied. "All I know is he was serious about what he's doing. Serious enough to throw himself away for it."

_What? What are they talking about?_ Maric blinked, opening his eyes to gaze upon the new day, and near immediately shutting them to shut out the bright sunlight that greeted him.

Righting himself, he just about managed to blearily open his eyes. "Who ran off now?" He asked groggily.

"Sir Carris." Shane replied near immediately, looking rather hurt as he relayed the information. "He went off to fight Garland on his own."

Maric's eyes went wide, and at once he found himself fully awake. "Are you sure?" He turned to Celeste. "Is this true?"

"I'm afraid so." Celeste nodded. "He ran away last night."

"Didn't you try to stop him?" Maric cried. "We have to follow him. We can't just let him leave us."

"I tried to stop him, Maric." Celeste defended herself. "He really seemed like he wanted to kill Garland on his own. I told him he was crazy, and he knew it was true."

"How can he expect to kill him on his own." Maric wondered aloud. He shook his head, half wishing he didn't believe what he was hearing. "He wouldn't stand a chance."

"I know." Celeste replied, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "The problem is that he does too. He knows he'll be killed today. He's either got a bigger ego than I've ever seen in one man, or he has a hero complex that could rival yours. I could vouch for both."

"I don't have a hero complex." Maric muttered under his breath defensively.

"It isn't like he's abandoning us, either." Celeste pointed out. "Stephon gave us everything we need to get out of this. You two just need to hop the nearest boat out of here, and I need to get back to my thief clan. It's that simple." She paused. "I think this is where we should look at what we've been offered."

Maric nodded. "You're right." He sighed. "This is Stephon's quest, not ours."

"Maric we can't leave him." Shane protested. "You can't be ready to do this , I know you..."

"Shane, Celeste is right." Maric cut him off. "I really don't want to do this. I want to help Stephon, but if he doesn't want our help, so be it. We helped him on his way here, now we just have a long way back to Corneria." He looked out towards the temple of fiends one last time, guilt tugging at his heart. _The world lost a good man today._

The silence that ensued moments later as they packed up their things and began trekking through dense forests towards the large swamp they'd faced yesterday. Maric looked from Shane to Celeste a few times, trying to prompt some kind of conversation, or else find something to say. He came up short. The two of them looked sullen, as if Stephon was already dead. As far as they knew he was to them. Celeste's gaze was lost and far away, and Shane looked to the ground, sadly. They all held some degree of sorrow, however. Now not only had they lost a warrior again, this time they knew his intentions were pure, and in fact, far more noble than their own.

_I just wanted to get Rachen out of prison._ He thought. _My motives were selfish compared to his. I... I'm not ready to give my life for this quest like he is. I'd have ran. I know I would have. How can he not? Why doesn't he run? _

"Maric, watch yourself!" The first spoken words in quite a while came as Maric whipped around a found a forest imp flying for his head.

He flinched, barely having time to draw his sword, he simply ducked, the imp missing his head by inches. His rapier was in his hands before he could think.

"These aren't regular imps." Celeste hissed. "Look at the colors." Indeed these imps seemed a bit larger. They were clad in gray, and seemed far fiercer and far swifter than normal imps, and there were about fifteen surrounding them.

"Swamp imps." Maric muttered. "Known as gray imps to most. Watch out they're really.." Before he could get out his last words about three of the imps had lunged at the three of them in a blur of gray and brown, and Maric felt a sharp pain in his side. He turned to see one imp pulling it's knife from his flank, and promptly stabbed at it. "...Fast."

The imp sidestepped his blade, and Maric ground his teeth. _Don't mock me_ He threatened the creature silently. At once he whipped his sword around, catching the foul creature in the neck. It faltered and died.

"_Sleep!"_ Despite knowing a second spell now, Shane stuck to his specialty, putting down about five of the imps around him. Already one had crawled upon his back, and he seemed to be having great difficulty with that.

Without thinking Maric lunged in at the imp on the black mage's back, only a second later to find the imp had disappeared and Maric was now cutting into part of Shane's back. Maric pulled back immediately as Shane gave out a cry. The cut wasn't deep, but Maric found himself apologizing profusely afterwards regardless.

"I-it's fine." Shane stuttered, a pained smile showing in his eyes. "It.. it doesn't hurt."

Maric had already started a cure spell, but was interrupted by a smack to the head. This imp had a club. Maric groaned. _You'll have to wait a bit Shane. _He thought, stabbing at the imp. The little creature dodged out of the way, and Maric found his blade cutting air. At once he focused. If his blade was too slow, magic wouldn't be. He started and finished a spell within seconds, and at once about three imps burst into flames.

At last Maric caught the slight of the last gray imp falling to Celeste's blade. He breathed a sigh of relief. At once he ran to Shane, who was currently sitting down, and probably would have looked quite pale if his face wasn't hidden. Maric started a cure spell as fast as he could, laying a hand on the boy's back and at once healing the wound shut. It left a rather messy scar, obviously Maric's healing magic wasn't stellar yet, but at least the boy wouldn't have to go the rest of the way back to Corneria like that.

The three of them looked out, exchanging no words. They each looked out at what lay before them. The swamp they'd crossed the previous day looked just as ominous coming back as it had going in. A couple hesitant looks were exchanged.

"We need Stephon." Celeste affirmed what Maric knew each light warrior was presently thinking.

"Right." Maric nodded.

At once the three started heading back to the temple of Fiends as fast as their legs could move them, praying that the fourth of their party was still alive.

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Stephon stared wordlessly up at the temple that loomed before him like a horrible fortress. It was a foreboding place; the entire structure seemed to emanate an aura that made a chill run down Stephon's spine. It wasn't exactly a grand structure, though it may have been in it's prime. It looked less like a temple and more like the ruins of one in all honesty. Pillars that may have held the entrance up were now a pile of marble, and all that remained of a once ornate entrance was now nothing more than a hole in the pile of rubble. He could almost see inside, though it was terribly dark. The inside seemed no better than the outside, and even from out where the sun still shone, the dank smells of mildew and death seemed to ride upon the cold air that came from the temple. Stephon didn't like this place at all.

_It's too late to turn back._ Stephon reminded himself. _I've already let the Light Warriors go. It's time to carry out my promise._

In the back of his mind he was crying out against this course of action. _I want to live. _He couldn't help thinking for but a split second. _I don't want to be killed here._

He shook the thought from his mind immediately. _I've already made up my mind. _ He affirmed. _I am to fight Garland. Whether I win or lose is entirely objective. If I am to rule a country, I must be prepared to die for it as well._

He took a breath, and at last began advancing in on the structure. Inside it was as if the warmth was sucked from Stephon's body. A chill rushed down his spine which in turn seemed to near still his blood. He shuddered, unable to contain himself, and felt near as if every moment up until that point was for naught. His body and his soul seemed near ready to cave inwards at that very moment, and in those moments, there was but one thing that willed him to take a second step. _I must save Princess Sara._

The hall was dark, not only naturally dark, but as if every speck of sunlight had been drained from the place. This darkness was eerie, quite unlike the shadows that surrounded the mages' magic shop. Those shadows had simply been there because light was being kept out, this place instead sucked it in and held it there for no eyes to behold. Noises like a dying man's moan echoed through the halls.

_Just the wind._ Stephon told himself. _That noise must be the wind. Nothing more._

After a few seconds Stephon bumped up against a solid, cool object, wooden from the touch. A door. At once Stephon pushed hard against the door and it swung open slowly, just barely enough for Stephon to enter.

The inside room was lit with torches on each wall, casting an eerie orange light upon the hall's features. Bats hung from the ceiling every so often crying out with an earsplitting screech . A row of pillars led down a red carpeted path up to a shrine in front of which lay a dormant Princess Sara. Her face seemed pale and ashen, and her clothing was dirty and tattered, fairly unfitting for a princess.

"Sara!" Stephon cried, rushing forward. He knelt at the royal blooded girl's side, shaking her slightly. The girl didn't move. "Sara wake up! Sara!"

"I'm afraid she cannot hear you." A low, harsh voice chuckled. Stephon felt a chill rush down his spine as he turned to find himself staring up at a dark, menacing man in blue-white armor. His helmet near covered his entire head, the only part of his face visible being his harsh, cruel eyes. Two horns spiraled up from the top of the man's helm, and a violet cape flowed from his back, sweeping the ground around him. He wielded a longsword made of steel, which was presently pointed at Stephon's neck.

For a second, Stephon faltered, only seconds later recovering his reason and drawing his blade. He righted himself, and the man's sword followed him as he did. Ripples of fear shot through Stephon's body, and he was sure with even an ounce less self control than he had now, he would be cowering in fear. Only through sheer will power did the young man manage to hold his ground against the towering knight. _Garland. _Stephon confirmed, looking up at the man. _You're Garland, aren't you?_

"You've done well boy, but I'm afraid our little skirmish ends here." Garland continued, seeming unphased by Stephon's resilience. "At least you can be content knowing your comrades died honorably."

Stephon frowned. _What is he talking about? _He wondered. At once his question was answered when he again looked about the room. The floor was strewn with bodies, all sporting the Cornerian crest._ The queen's battalion! _Stephon felt a sick feeling rising in his throat. He swallowed hard. _All of them are dead. All of them. He thinks I'm one of them._

"Stand down, you monster." Stephon growled. "I'll not fall here. I've had no part in this battle yet, and I intend on fighting you man to man, sword to sword."

A low, chilling chuckle escaped the dark knight's lips. "Man to man?" He repeated. "One of the king's lapdogs seeks to fight me sword to sword?"

"I am no lowly servant." Stephon cried. "I am Stephon, heir of the Carris house, and betrothed to the girl you now hold captive. I've come for your life."

Garland's smirk widened. "So, you're the one who won the princess's hand. Antoine Carris's precious first born." He chuckled softly. "You're the thick headed boy who wished to gain the throne."

"Today I'll earn it." Stephon confirmed. "I am one of the four fabled Warriors of Light. Today I'll fulfill this prophecy in killing you."

Garland seemed entirely unphased by Stephon's reiteration of the Prophecy surrounding the Light Warriors. He chuckled his eyes creased with mirth as he advanced upon the young warrior. His sword lowered for a second, and Garland stood towering above Stephon like some sort of demi-god, laughing at the lowly mortal that stood before him.

"A warrior of light?" The knight repeated, looking Stephon over. "Where are the other three, oh great warrior of light?" He cackled, looking down at Stephon as if he were some small ignorant child.

"This battle is of no concern to them" Stephon replied brazenly. The other warriors didn't have to be dragged into this. "The battle for Princess Sara's hand is ours alone, not theirs."

"You fool." Garland shook his head. "You would give up the aid of your comrades to fight me on your own? Or is it that they refused to follow you?"

"I left them on my own accord." Stephon replied. "I don't need their help to kill one man."

This statement seemed to spark something in Stephon's foe. A glint of excitement rose in his eyes, and he raised his sword again, a dangerous air coming about him.

"I honor your challenge, boy." Garland replied at length, taking another step forwards. Stephon tensed. "But I'll tell you here, my strength is worth more than simply that of one man. You may try to strike me down, but mark my words boy, I will make sure that you fall to my blade."

No sooner had those words been spoken, Garland sprang out like a tiger, his body moving far faster than Stephon had imagine he could move. He had seconds to move before the man's blade would have embedded itself into his breast. It missed by inches. Stephon, clutched his sword even more tightly now. He was glad to have the extra mobility, but now he was presented with a far more serious problem. In only chain he was vulnerable to even the simplest thrust. He had to imagine that though his chain mail would protect him from glancing blows, one sharp, direct attack would sheer through the iron links and bring upon his death.

Before Stephon was even presented with the opportunity to launch a counter-offensive Garland had closed distance again, and flew at him, his cape fanning out like a pair of ghastly wings behind him. Stephon parried his blade and struck out against him only to find the man's blade pressing against his once again. He disengaged, stumbling back, only just managing to block another attack from Garland.

In this manner of fighting, Garland seemed near careless with his moves. He incorporated no complex skills or evasive tricks, he stuck to a very simple plan of attack, as if to mock Stephon, and the very thing that burned at the young warrior was the fact that his simple plans seemed to work._ I can't give him the chance to start using his more complex moves. _Stephon thought._ I can barely get around his blade as it is. I have to strike him down while he's still playing, otherwise I'll never stand a chance._

With another parry, Stephon feinted with his blade to the right, ducking under Garland's blade as he swung sideways to bat Stephon's sword from his hand. There was a small gap in his armor between his chest plate and the beginning of his leggings, opening around the stomach. _If I can get in there that blow would be fatal._ Stephon thought, gripping his weapon. _ He's off his balance, I can probably just go in and..._

Just as Stephon's sword shot out, Garland sidestepped his blow, their swords again connecting with a resounding clang. Stephon looked up, startled at his foe's attentiveness to even such a small detail. _He's aware of even that small a flaw? _ Stephon looked up at the man in awe. _How much has he noticed with me, then?_

Again Stephon retreated, pulling his sword back, anticipating another attack. None came.

"Your swordplay isn't all that bad," Garland commented, batting at Stephon's sword idly, "but as a swordsman I'd expect better of you, being Antoine Carris's son. Perhaps you're holding back."

At once Garland lunged forward again, no longer seeming to be holding back. He swept his blade up at Stephon's all but knocking it from his hands, and as Stephon parried down to meet his blade the longsword slipped stealthily out of Stephon's path. The tip of Stephon's sword crashed against the stone ground, and he hadn't the time to even think to launch an offensive move before Garland's blade slammed into his chest. He was thrown about a foot backwards by the impact, collapsing to the ground after, clutching his chest and trying desperately to regain the breath Garland's sword had knocked from him.

He took a few gasps, at length looking up at Garland, who stood with a wild, near hungry look in his eyes, towering over Stephon. Stephon could only glare at the knight, raising his sword to bat Garland's away from his neck, showing he wasn't through just yet. The force of Garland's attack left him winded, but not much more. The attack had been made with the flat part of the blade, and hadn't been intended to be the blow that took Stephon's life. Obviously the man was saving that for later.

"I expected much better of you." Garland said scowling. " Antoine obviously either let himself go, or let you get away with murder. He was a much better swordsman than this. Perhaps he isn't much of a mentor, or.. perhaps you couldn't be taught. He was my brightest pupil after all."

"What?" Stephon felt his blood run cold.

"What, surprised?" Garland smiled. "Yes, that's right, I'm the one who put a sword in your dear old father's hands and taught him to fight. If only I'd known he would later put it down for the sake of diplomacy. To whisper into the ear of a batty old king, deaf to near anything any man could say."

"Do not scorn the royal family!" Stephon cried, lurching forward. " Have you no love for the kingdom you called home? The land your sword once fought to protect?"

"Love?" Garland turned now, his eyes going wide and wild. "You dare ask if I love my kingdom? Child, I would do near anything for my kingdom, for that great land that is Corneria, I would lay down my life time and time again."

"Then why do you scorn it?" Stephon asked, softly now. "Why have you held a royal hostage here, why do you act as the bane of the very kingdom you wish to protect?"

"I love the kingdom..." Garland repeated. "But I hold no love for it's rulers." On his face at once sat a sinister snarl. "I grew old along side our beloved king. My situation was like yours, I was a noble, but I was never destined for the throne. Instead, there was Leo, batty, idealistic, short sighted, stupid wretched Leo!" He tossed his sword to the ground in a fit of rage. "I was forced to watch as that lune slowly destroyed the kingdom before my very eyes, my kingdom, my Corneria! It had to end, and this... this was the only way to save the kingdom."

His eyes were sad, lost. Stephon thought to stand, but he was afraid of what the consequences might be at the hands of such a fierce warrior. Instead he stayed, he couldn't think of what to do otherwise.

"And then there was Sara. The young Princess, first born to the king. The younger sister was lame, not fit for the thrown, liable to die within a few years, so she was the only heir." A smile crossed his face again, but this one was not mocking or scornful. Instead, it was sad, and longing. "Oh Sara, the beauty, the gem of Corneria. The beautiful swan that the kingdom holds in the palm of it's hands, corrupted by the wretched mind of her wretched father. In youth she was so carefree, so pure, but she was raised on lies and filth." He spat. " I could only watch as Leo's foul hands sullied even the purest of souls, just as his touched withered the strongest of kingdoms."

He turned back to Stephon. "So that's why I did it, boy." He said at once. "That's what you wanted to know right? Why? Why would Garland who cares so much about Lady Sara, and Corneria do such a horrible thing? You know nothing Carris, nothing!"

At last Stephon stopped listening. He couldn't bare it any more. _He's a loon. Completely insane, I can hear it in his voice. _He readied his blade. _Perhaps I can strike now while he's distracted. _

Stephon lunged out, again aiming for the small chink in Garland's glinting blue white armor. He was closing distance, and the man still seemed oblivious to Stephon's attack. _Yes, this is it. This is the blow I need._

At the last second steel collided with steel. A sweep of the sword, as fast as lighting, flung Stephon's sword from his grip, and Garland stared down at Stephon now, so much unadulterated fury in his eyes Stephon was sure he'd all but released the wrath of all hell upon himself. A tremor of fear racked his body as the swordsman advanced, his sword gripped tightly in his hands.

"Young master Carris." Garland growled through gritted teeth. For a second he raised his blade, and kept it raised for a moment as if contemplating his attack. At length it lowered, and Garland gripped Stephon by his chain mail shirt, hefting him to his feet. "It seems you've still much to learn. Antoine has been far too soft on you, spare the rod and spoil the child I suppose." A smirk graced his lips. " I'll teach you the way I taught him"

Stephon struggled to wrench himself out of the man's grip, but his attempts ended in failure. Garland held him by the throat, just lightly enough so that he could still breathe. The anger gleaming in Garland's eyes told Stephon that this wasn't out of mercy, and as Garland raised his sword, he began to wish that strangulation was the only fitting way Garland could find to kill him.

"Well, something's already done a number on your face." The knight observed, tapping his cheek with the tip of his blade. "You were probably a dashing young man before that, weren't you pretty boy?" Stephon gritted his teeth, not quite sure if that counted as an insult, but taking offense to it none the less.

He couldn't stew on mere insults for long, as in the next second the feeling of cold metal slithering up his back, beneath chain mail, and his cotton undershirt. Stephon paled as he realized what Garland was planning, and only had second to anticipate the streak of searing pain that burst forth down his back when Garland pulled his sword back, tearing flesh as he did. A cry escaped Stephon's lips, and at once he stumbled back, and would have fallen had Garland not been holding him in place. That, however, was the extent of his cries, and he refused to cry out any more. Instead he simply gritted his teeth harder, blinking back tears.

"Oh, go ahead now." Garland sneered. "Cry, cry for your father, he won't come. The sword is beyond him now! Child, you know not who the man you call father is."

"He is a good man, as His Majesty is!" Stephon cried through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I'm sure." Garland laughed, "Antoine has plans for you yet boy, I'll tell you that. This mission of his was tailored for you, wasn't it? To get his bastard son out of the way so that his ruddy blood line could run on into royalty. That was his plan, wasn't it? To use me as the scapegoat, and at the same time, the executioner, first to act as his slave, and then to die in order to earn his name glory. All part of his grand scheme. Horrible isn't it?"

Stephon stared at Garland wide eyed. For a second, he wasn't if he'd heard the man right. _Bastard son? What kind of drivel is this. _ He shook off the thought. _He knows not of what he speaks._

Weakly, Stephon smirked at the knight, "Horrible indeed." He coughed lightly. "Horrible that a man would mock a noble family right as he kills their first born."

"Indeed..." Garland echoed, a smile of his own crossing his features. "Do not believe me then, I'll let you have to comfort of dying thinking you were truly the pride of the Carris family. I suppose it can't hurt much now."

The knight raised his sword again, this time poising his sword to strike Stephon the same way frontways, the diagonal cut going in the opposite direction as it had on his back. The cut was light, as if the knight was being careful not to kill Stephon where he stood by striking anything vital. Instead the blow merely crippled him more than he had been. Garland released Stephon, letting him fall heavily to the floor, curling forwards in pain. A steady pool of blood formed around him that seemed as if it could stretch for miles. _Is that all ... my blood?_ He wondered vaguely.

_No, I won't just lay here and let myself bleed to death. _Stephon blinked a few times, trying to clear his blurring vision, and took a shaking breath. _I have to save Lady Sara from this monster. I must. I have to fight Garland to the last seconds of my life._

Rolling back onto his stomach Stephon shakily rose to his hands and knees, trying to ignore the tremors that wracked his limbs. A few times he attempted to lift himself up, into a kneeling position, but ended up falling to the cold stone ground after retaining maybe a second of balance. After a few tries, Garland seemed to take notice of Stephon's feeble struggles, and laughed.

"Boy, don't waste your time." Garland chided. "It'll be over soon enough, I assure you."

Stephon shook his head, looking around, and at last catching sight of his sword. It lay discarded a few feet away, not too far to crawl. _I'll make it. _Stephon assured himself, rising to his hands and knees once again, despite the protests of just about every muscle in his body.

Again Garland's sword shot down towards him, and Stephon's eyes flicked up just in time to see the weapon shooting towards his breast. _No._ Stephon stumbled back, looking up in horror. _No I won't die here._ He thought, and with that, without giving the action any second thoughts, seized the blade in his bare hands, and though the action didn't stop Garland's sword from piercing chain and flesh, the attack stopped just about an inch in.

An equally blistering hot spear of pain wracked both his chest and his bare hands as he felt metal scraping on bone in about seven or eight places on his hands. A few lines of blood trickled down the sides of Garland's blade, is if in testament to Stephon's move. Scowling, Garland withdrew his blade, tearing the blade out of Stephon's hands as violently as possible. The resulting burst of pain was near crippling, and Stephon fell once again to the now blood soaked ground around him, cradling his now mutilated hands defensively and whimpering pathetically. _That was a bad move. _Stephon concluded silently, biting his lip.

"Your drive impresses me, boy." Garland commented. Stephon gave a gasp as an explosion of pain irrupted from his back, his breath halting, and his vision suddenly becoming dim. Horror crossed the knight's face as he caught sight of the bloodied point of Garland's sword emerging from his chain mail. "I'd have liked to let you live."

Garland retrieved a crimson stained blade from the knight's back, and sheathed it silently. Stephon watched with pained eyes as he drew away. His breath had left him, and he could feel the energy draining from his limbs steadily. He strained to draw breath, but something now prevented him from doing so. _Stay awake._ He commanded himself. _Stay awake, I can't die now. Not after all this. Not now. _ His vision blurred, and suddenly he felt a warm, near euphoric feeling within him. He felt his pains floating away, and some of his breath restored, but still he could only muster the shallowest of breaths. A tired feeling swept over him like a sleep spell, this time without the added nausea or intense focus that half-mage would have used. It was as if some friendly mage had decided to release him from this physical anguish and allow him to slip into a world of rest, the sleep of death. Labored heartbeats throbbed in his ears that slowly began to dim and degrade into a light flutter. _Stay awake. Don't die. _ He blinked through half-lit eyes, taking a labored breath. _Maybe... maybe I'll.. rest for now._

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"You think this is going to work, mage?" Celeste looked at Maric skeptically, as she peered into the lit inner room of the temple of fiends. It was dark, and the three of them were well concealed by the shadows, and Garlands seemed preoccupied with Stephon at any rate.

Maric nodded, a slight twinge pricking his heart as he realized the thief girl had referred to him with the cold, detached name she'd given him in the beginning of the quest. Finishing off one last cure spell on top of the cure and sleep spells he'd cast before he turned to her.

"As far as Garland knows Stephon is dead, or dying presently at any rate." Maric confirmed. "The problem is that that is the reality. A couple crude cure spells won't keep him alive for very long."

Celeste and Shane nodded, watching Garland silently for a few seconds. He strode over to Stephon's now seemingly dead body, laughing with a shake of his head. He held his sword aloft for a few seconds, pointing at him.

"Sir Carris _is_ still alive, isn't he Maric?" Shane asked hesitantly as he looked on. Even if this state of apparent death had been caused by a sleep spell, it was difficult to tell whether it was truly magic that held the knight in this state of unconsciousness, or if he had really died.

"I don't know, I just wish we had gotten here sooner." Maric sighed. "I wish we could do more, but right now..." He paused. "But this is going to work. Everything will be fine, you'll see."

"You're sure you want to go out first?" Celeste asked. "You and Half-Mage could surprise him from the shadows with magic. He wouldn't be expecting that."

"We need your stealth where it works best, in the shadows." Maric replied. "If you go out armed with only knives, he may be suspicious. Conversely he may just decide to lop off your head, at which point you couldn't do much to stop him." Celeste nodded.

In the middle room Garland had stooped down to Stephon's level, drawing his sword, and putting it to the boy's neck a few times, before raising it.

Maric paled. _He can't be... _

"Oh ye gods!" Celeste stood up in alarm. "Maric, get out there, he's going to.."

Maric never waited for her to finish. He darted out, sword in hand, and intercepted Garland's sword just before it reached Stephon's neck.

Garland looked at Maric quizzically, and Maric stumbled back, righting himself.

"Garland, I've come for your life." Maric cried, holding his rapier aloft, and pointing it at Garland.

Garland sighed. "You're the third man today to lay down his life before me." He said. " Do you really want to die, boy?"

"I must avenge my leader and fellow light warrior." Maric replied, trying as hard as he could to maintain eye contact. "I assure you, I will not die."

Garland's expression softened for a second, and then contorted with mirth. "Another lone Light Warrior?" Garland asked. "The four warriors of Light were supposed to be as one unit, not four separate ones." Maric said nothing, glaring at Garland. Any slip of the tongue could give away their entire plan.

"Very well." Garland said at length, pointing his sword at Maric. There was a second when neither swordsman nor Maric moved, Garland took the incentive to strike.

The result was catastrophic as far as Maric was concerned. He held his rapier up in defense, anticipating the oncoming blow, but at the last moment, Garland feinted to the right, ducking beneath his blade and catching him on the arm. The sword tore open his arm near to the bone, and near immediately, Maric stumbled to the ground, crying out in pain, and dropping his sword for an instant.

Garland seemed dissatisfied, and he scowled as he advanced on Maric a second time. _His aim must've been to kill me in a single move. _Maric thought, biting his lip. _I'd wager it won't take him much longer than that to succeed. _

Maric just narrowly managed to dodge a second attack, Garland's sword whizzing past his ear. Awkwardly, Maric groped for his rapier, finding it, but without the time to launch his own attack as Garland was already sailing in with one of his own.

_I can't use any magic to heal myself yet._ He thought, trying to ignore his throbbing arm, and failing miserably. _I can't take any time to start a spell, I only have seconds between each attack. _ He glanced back to the shadows as another blow just narrowly missed him. _Shane, Celeste, hurry up, will you? _

Garland again launched an attack directly on Maric's blade. The jolt jarred him, knocking him to the ground and sending tremors through his whole body. He looked at Garland helplessly as he attempted to right himself, knowing he'd never be able to dodge the blow.

A decidedly feminine battlecry rang out from the shadows, and relief flooded Maric as Celeste leaped from her hiding spot like a cougar, knife brandished in her hand. He took two bounding leaps before slamming directly into Garland, knife poised to attack. A chink in the knight's armor left him vulnerable to attack, and the thief girl took advantage of that, her knife sinking into soft flesh for a moment before she sprung back and retreated into the shadows. Garland gave a harsh, near inhuman cry as he recoiled from the blow. It wasn't severe, but the simple fact that Celeste had managed to wound Garland was distressing to say the least for the knight.

The conclusion of a cure spell left Maric's lips just as Garland turned back to him. He had preformed two, one to heal the gash in his arm, and one to sustain Stephon for a bit longer. Garland blinked.

"So, there's two of you." Garland said thoughtfully. "And a mage to boot? No wonder your swordplay was so weak."He smiled. "Well this certainly makes things a bit more interesting. Alright, I'll play your game."

Maric gave no reply. He tightened his hands around his rapier, and again sprang in to attack, this time taking the incentive while he had it. Garland parried his blade, knocking him back from the force, and launched a crippling counter attack of his own that slashed him across the ribs. Maric stumbled back, dropping for the second time. _Blast it. _Maric thought, biting his lip, trying to stifle his own cries, and of course, failing. _This isn't as easy as it looks._

He started a cure spell without thinking. The burning sensation in his chest was too great to continue fighting without stopping. He would die more quickly trying to defend himself than he would if he was trying to preform magic. Garland's sword came for him again, and again he threw himself out of the way. The spell was sloppy. He didn't have the right level of concentration, and there was a chance he wouldn't be able to cast at all._ "Cure." _He cried out the spell trigger as loud as he could, as if saying the trigger word louder would make it more likely to work. Unfortunately that wasn't the case, the spell died in his hands. _Ye gods, I can't do this. _Fear welled up in Maric's chest as he watched Garland advance upon him, preparing to give a killing blow.

"_Sleep" _A second spell trigger came from the shadows, and Garland halted suddenly, turning around. From the shadows emerged a rather meek looking Shane, gripping his staff tightly in his hands. He realized at once that his signature spell hadn't worked, and seemed to shrink a little. Garland looked from Maric to Shane a few times, eying his new foe carefully. Near carelessly, Garland lifted Maric to his feet by the collar of his shirt, holding him up with one and and putting the blade of his sword to his neck with the other. He smirked at Shane near mischievously as he swept his blade across the side of the red mage's throat..

"Maric!" A distressed cry from Shane was near the last thing Maric heard. His entire body seemed enveloped in pain, not just his neck, and he gave a strangled, pained outcry that near racked his entire body. His mind near immediately went blank after managing one final thought. _Oh ye gods no._

Near immediately Maric's strength failed him. His breath had long left him, and rapidly consciousness was as well. The world had gone near black, and though a semblance of consciousness seemed to linger in him, his mind and thoughts seemed detached, as if part of a realm he couldn't make contact with. In the back of his mind there was fear. Fear of what? He didn't know. It was impossible to tell what was happening, impossible to even know what the next passing moment would bring. There was noise beyond the darkness, some sort of cacophony that pounded against his ears, but that he couldn't make any sense of.

Then there was a burning sensation, something pricking him in his neck again, and that burning was slowly intensifying, slowly growing like a fire set to ignite. For a second it was just a peculiar sensation, something strange, but not to be feared, but as the seconds passed and the feeling intensified, he realized the pain wasn't going to go away. It grew only stronger, near engulfing him. His body went rigid, and for a second seemed to be submerged in flame, the side of his neck that had been cut burning with all the rage of hellfire.

"Maric! Come on you stupid mage, breathe."Celeste's voice called to him in a fierce whisper, low, but distressed. "Open your eyes, you can't die yet."

A ragged gasp, involuntary but necessary, filled Maric's lungs with air. The hellfire had died now to a dull throb, and he realized only now just how defeated and tired he actually felt. Seconds before he'd felt nothing, and now he was attempting to decide which was worse. _What happened?_ Was the only thought floating in his half conscious mind.

"Maric, can you hear me?" Celeste's voice was still no louder than a whisper. "If you can, don't worry, you'll be alright, I used a potion to heal you a bit. It's not phoenix down, but as long as you're alive. I'm going over to help out Half-mage, I'm not sure how much longer he can hold Garland off. Just stay where you are, don't try to move, you aren't in any condition to be moving. We can handle this from here."

Soft footsteps drew away from Maric and the light ding of an empty potion bottle hitting the floor was the last he heard of her. At once he was left alone. _Celeste and Half-mage... fighting Garland._ Maric's mind was still a bit fuzzy. He struggled to gain some semblance of control over his limbs, and only succeeded in prompting a feeble twitch. _Shane and Celeste are fighting against Garland. We'll be alright. We will..._

"Sir, I-I'm sorry, I told you it's the only spell I know!" Shane's voice was crying out from somewhere far away. "Please d-don't..."

"You get away from him!" A metallic clang was heard as what was presumably Celeste's knife was locked against Garland's sword. The weapons disengaged with the sharp sound of metal on metal, and Celeste gave a small outcry a few seconds later.

"Your perseverance is truly astounding," Garland's voice said in an unconcerned tone, " but I'm afraid I'm getting tired of this whole affair."

_Celeste! _Maric's eyes shot open as a burst of adrenaline based energy filled him. _He'll kill her if I don't do something. I have to..._

Trying to right himself was truly one of the most difficult tasks Maric had ever had put before him. Parts of his body that he hadn't even realized were there ached furiously. He rose shakily to his hands and knees once, but fell seconds later to exhaustion. Through blurring vision he saw Garland lifting Celeste by the collar of her brown tunic, bringing her to eye level with him. His sword was poised above her breast, ready to impale her. _No. Celeste!_

The next thing Maric knew he'd taken his sword in his hand and rushed at Garland utilizing all the strength his body had left. His rapier smashed into Garland's sword, and Garland at once whipped around and attacked back, pressing with his full might on the flimsy rapier. The sword bent radically, and with a snap, broke clean in two, with steel shards flying every which way. Maric cried out, being knocked back to the ground with his rapier's now useless handle still clutched in his hand. Fell backwards, collapsing to the cool stone ground once more, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

Garland grunted. "You three just keep bouncing back, don't you?" he asked, looking near surprised, " Young fools. You don't know what you're doing. You throw your lives away for a kingdom you cannot hope to save. Corneria is corrupt, without my guidance it will be lost. Your cause is for naught."

Darkness was starting to weave in around Maric's vision, and Garland advance upon him now slowly. Celeste had since disappeared into the darkness and now was nowhere to be seen. A sword was placed lightly on his heaving chest, slowly beginning to force it's way into Maric's skin. Struggling, Maric tried to inch out of the way of Garland's blade, but found the task to be an impossible one. _Ye gods help me._ He thought, closing his eyes.

"_Thunder!"_ Shane's small voice rang loud and clear throughout the hall, echoing in every corner of the room. A burst of light and a loud snapping noise filled the room, and Garland cried out in a near animal like way as peals of electricity clawed at his body. Maric jolted up just in time to see knight fall to his knees, shaking from the crippling blow.

Seconds later Celeste burst from the shadows, her knife in her hand, and at once stabbed the knight right in the throat. With a strangled cry he fell, writhing with pain, his eyes wide beneath his blue white helm. At last he gave one last grunt, and lay still. The three light warriors stood frozen in place, looking on at their foe as he slowly faded into nothing, the chirping bats around them the only sound. A shiver crawled down Maric's spine as he looked on. A wave of exhaustion hit him, and Maric felt himself pitch forward, crumpling to the ground again.

"Maric!" Shane cried rushing over to the red mage's side. Maric looked up at the black mage blearily, and smiled weakly as if to tell him silently that he was okay. He didn't dare speak; right now it was hard enough to breathe.

"I told you not to move." Celeste scolded as she stooped down to the red mage's level. For a second, her expression was hard as she stared into his eyes, but at length she softened. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Here," Shane handed Maric a potion bottle, which his drained quickly. Near immediately his strength began to return, and he felt at least a little better. Good enough that he was positive he wouldn't be passing out in a few seconds at any rate.

_It's amazing we all ended up on one piece._ He thought smiling as his two companions took potions for themselves. _You'd have thought we would end up losing at least a few limbs. It shows we aren't quite as pathetic as Stephon thought we were. _As he thought on the knight, a horror filled thought entered his mind as he remembered the condition of the knight before the battle.

"Stephon!" Maric cried aloud, struggling to right himself. A look of dismay clouded the eyes of both other light warriors.

"Oh ye merciful gods!" Celeste cried, looking over to where the knight still lay. "Stephon! I nearly forgot!" Near immediately she took off darting over Stephon, gathering his still body into her arms.

Shane offered a hand to Maric, which he accepted, and the two made their way over to Celeste and Stephon. Presently Celeste had applied some potion to the knight's wounds, but unlike before, no healing reaction had taken place, and the knight remained dormant.

"He's still sleeping, isn't he?" Celeste asked, her voice bordering on frantic. "This is just your spell, right Maric? He's sleeping. He can't wake up because he's under your spell, right?"

Maric faltered. Stephon's face had taken on an ashen complexion, and he hadn't drawn breath since the three of them had entered the temple of fiends. A heavy feeling embedded itself in Maric's gut. The truth was apparent to him immediately. _He isn't just sleeping, is he?_

"Celeste, I really don't think..." Maric began, his voice sounded foreign to him, and he faltered a bit, trailing off when Celeste glanced at him with sad eyes. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "I... there really isn't anything I can do."

Shane took a step back, for a second forgetting Maric's reliance on him, and only was just about able to prevent the red mage from tumbling to the ground again. The young mage averted his eyes from the sight of Celeste and Stephon. His hands trembled as he stood there, looking just a few seconds away from tears.

Maric's stomach churned with guilt. _I can't believe it. _ He thought. _Even after we killed Garland. We still let him down. We were so close. We nearly were able to set things right. _

"Princess Sara!" Celeste's voice raised all lowered heads, and the thief girl stood, indicating a figure on to opposite side of the room.

The three made their way over as fast as they could, the two mages trying to keep up with Celeste. In the middle of the room, right next to a large shrine sat a groggy looking girl dressed in what once may have been a fine nightgown that was long since soiled by dirt. The girl was extremely pretty looking, with wide blue eyes and a pleasant face, framed by golden locks of hair. Her complexion was near a snow white, and her lips full and red. Maric had to wonder how she would have looked if she wasn't marked with dirt.

"W- what?" The girl looked up at the three light warriors with wonder and confusion on her face. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You're at the temple of fiends." Celeste explained. "A knight named Garland kidnapped you from the palace, and was keeping you here. We came here to save you from him, we're the Warriors of Light."

Sara's expression turned immediately from one of confusion to one of awe. "The Warriors of Light?" The girl repeated. "B.. but you have mages among your ranks, surely you couldn't be..."

"Oh, will you give the mage thing a rest?" Celeste dismissed her with a hint of annoyance in her voice. She faltered only after she realized exactly who she was talking to. "Besides we killed Garland. We've come to rescue you.

Sara frowned, looking up at the thief girl with disbelieving eyes. Celeste opened her mouth to reply again, but was promptly cut off by Maric.

"We have these crystals, you see." He started in, eager to find someone else who might believe the story of the warriors of light. He brandished his red crystal quickly. "They're supposed to signify the gathering of the Warriors of Light."

The girl's eyes widened now as she looked upon the three warriors, seeming now to hold something of awe. "So the legends are true." She whispered in a half shocked, half awe filled voice.

Maric flushed with pride for a second, smirking at Celeste who promptly rolled her eyes.

"You have my thanks for rescuing me, oh great warriors." The girl stood, looking at the three warriors with gratitude in her eyes. At length she frowned. "Where is the fourth of your ranks?"

The three warriors shifted uncomfortably as the loss of their fourth warrior was again brought up. Celeste motioned over to where Stephon lay, and at once the princess's face paled.

"That boy is the son of Lord Antoine Carris!" The girl exclaimed. "He is..." At once she rushed over to Stephon, followed by the other warriors.

Once they had caught up to her, princess Sara looked up at the warriors of Light with pained eyes. "You have suffered dearly in this battle." She said sadly. "The preservation of my life has cost you one of your own, and of many others" She motioned to the many other soldiers who now lay dead around Stephon. Guilt crossed her face.

The girl's face went grim for a second, as if thinking on the subject. Shane's hand close tightly around Maric's as the three looked on.

"I cannot stand for this." Sara said at length. "I.. I could not." She looked at the warriors now with determination in her eyes. "This boy can be saved yet, though the way to do it is still rather difficult."

_We don't have phoenix down. _ Maric thought. _If that's what she's thinking I'm afraid we'll come up short._

"His heart has all but stopped, but his body still lives." Sara continued, taking the necklace off from around her neck. In the middle of the silver chain hung a small silver feather medallion. Maric's eyes widened. _That's a charm! _He realized. _A rare one, the phoenix pinion, it works the way a life spell does instead of the way a phoenix down would. How did she manage to come into possession of that?_

"You're a spellcaster, aren't you good sir?" Sara had approached Shane carefully, holding up the charm. "I'm not sure how these work, but I do think it could help him. This was given to me for protection from one of the clerics at the castle. She showed me own to work it, and told me to use it if I ever found myself in danger, but I can't really remember how it works."

"I... I don't really know how." Shane admitted hesitantly. "I know Maric does, though, right?" He looked up to the red mage expectantly.

"Of course." Maric said nodding. He took the charm from Sara's hands and held it in front of him in two hands. Truthfully, Maric struggled using charms, and relied more on Rachen to use them. _Usually they aren't all that hard to figure out. _Maric told himself.

He twisted part of the silver chain around his fingers, pulling taut different pieces of the chain to change the pattern. Several times he found a pattern that could conceivably cause the spell to cast, but each time no reaction came from the charm. Hope was beginning to wane in the faces of all the warriors of light. At last with another turn the charm in the center started to glow a bright white. Power throbbed beneath the cool metallic chain, feeding into the charm on the end and causing it to shine with it's own white light. Quickly Maric touched the charm to Stephon's chest, channeling the energy into the knight's dormant body. The light grew brighter and more intense, similar to that of a phoenix down, only much brighter.

The light died suddenly, going out as soon as it had come. Maric recoiled a bit, his hands dropping slightly. _Did it work?_ He wondered looking on, as Stephon showed no signs of recovering. Seconds later, however, the knight shifted slightly, taking in a shallow breath.

"Stephon!" Celeste cried, her eyes going wide.

"Sir Carris!" Shane stopped down to his side now. "Sir Carris are you okay?"

Stephon gave a pained groan, gritting his teeth against some kind of unspoken pain. Maric started a cure spell as quickly as he could, while Celeste poured potion down the knight's throat. For a second he seemed to struggle against Celeste's grip, as if caught in a restless dream, but a second later he fell dormant.

"It'll take a while for him to recover." Maric said, standing. "He might not wake up for a while, but he will live." He nodded to princess Sara. "Thank you very much milady." He said dropping at once to one knee.

"Stand, there is no need for such pleasantries." The princess replied. "I would like to leave this place, though."

"Right" Celeste nodded. "It's a little unnerving in here."

Maric shuddered looking back at Garland's now unmoving body, still crumpled in the middle of the room. His stomach turned slightly, the sight of another man dead, a man he'd helped to kill.

"What's wrong Maric?" Shane asked looking a bit confused as he stared up at the red mage.

"I..well... It's nothing really.." Maric started a little awkwardly. "It's just.."

"You've never killed another man before have you?" Shane asked, sounding just a little too causal. Maric nodded. "It's alright, it won't bother you for long. Or... well for some people it does, but you will get over it. Don't worry, his death was a necessity."

Maric felt only more uncomfortable now. _Isn't Shane the one who was all for respecting life?_ Maric thought. _What happened to that? The way he talks about killing so lightly now, it's like..._ Maric trailed off. _What kind of person did I save back in the forest?_

"Come on Maric." Shane urged Maric forward gently. "Let's go."

Slowly the five of them made their way out of the temple, into the now moonlit forest. There was a clearing just around the temple, the perfect place to make camp, and as they left the temple, Maric felt near uncertain. Now that Garland was dead their quest was over. What would happen now? Only time could tell.

_**So, there you are. Sara is saved and Stephon is generally not dead. All is well, right? The quest is over, and our light warriors are free to go. Or are they?**_

_**We'll just have to see. Until then, Rate and Review! Please? (Puppydog eyes)**_

_**~Surfingpichu Over and out**_


	14. Chapter 13: There and back again

_**So you remember that fic a while back with the idiot mages, and the thief girl, and the jerkface, that were trying to kill these other jerkfaces so that they could save the world? Yeah, that fic updated again. Whoopee!!! Isn't that great? It isn't? Well it updated anyway, so there!**_

_**So anyway, thanks a whole bunch to Toxo, Emperor Zoron and Zippy Zipper for reviewing. Love you guys! You all get virtual cookies! Yay cookies!**_

_**Chapter 13: There and Back Again**_

Maric was absolutely sure it had to be near to morning after such a long time had been spent on guard. The sun seemed just about ready to peek out from behind the mountains, and the forest, though still dark, seemed just about ready to become flooded with light again. Soon they would be able to eat a light meal and be on their way back through the thick bog, through the Cornerian forest, and back to their home town where they would be named heroes for slaying Garland and freeing the kidnapped princess.

_Things couldn't be more right. _Maric thought laying back peacefully. _Now Rachen will be freed and the kingdom can breathe a breath of relief. On top of that we're all in one piece, not without our cuts and bruises, but not all that bad either._

The only object of worry now was Stephon, who had grabbed the attention of the Light Warriors and held it since Garland's death. Much to Maric's dismay, he hadn't stirred or even moved since they had left the temple of fiends with a rather bedraggled looking Princess Sara in tow. More than once during the night he had crept over to the knight to make sure he was still breathing. Every time he was comforted by the fact that Stephon was indeed still alive, but at the same time dismayed by the fact that he showed absolutely no signs of improvement either.

_He'll be fine_. Maric assured himself, shaking thoughts of the wounded knight from his mind. _He has enough white magic and potions running through him right now to make a mad man feel sane. I don't think there's much of anything to worry about._

Celeste and Shane of course had said otherwise. The two had insisted that the knight be kept under constant watch to make sure he didn't slip back into death's clutches as he had before. Even more insistent was Lady Sara herself, who had flat out refused to sleep until she had Maric's word that he wouldn't leave the knight to his own devices during his shift.

As far as he was concerned, the three of them were overreacting, but of course, if by some sort of cruel turn of events something did happen to Stephon while he wasn't looking or paying attention, he knew he would never be able to live it down.

That wasn't to say that the knight hadn't been taken care of since they left the temple of fiends. Maric had taken the time to heal his wounds near to completely. In the end it had turned out that Garland's sword had missed his vitals altogether, which made healing much easier. Given Maric's skill he couldn't exactly heal everything perfectly, and he was sure that if Stephon ever did wake up, he might have to do a bit of explaining, especially when it came to the one stab wound in his right shoulder that had nearly proved fatal.

Other than that healing had been rather easy, a good sign. Obviously he would come out with quite a few scars, but otherwise whole. The only potentially hindering wounds left were the two large gashed etched into both of his hands that Maric had taken care in wrapping tightly. Maric could only guess the different ways he might have managed to get those wounds, and later concluded that he really didn't want to know all that much. So much blood was already unsettling enough to work with, there was no need for any description of it.

The nights were getting colder now. Maric found himself unable to sleep anyway simply because of the bitter cold, on top of having guard duty that night, and he could only imagine how Celeste felt, being clad in little more than a light brown tunic. The fire they had procured had long died out now, and to conserve mana for the trip ahead, Maric didn't want to start another just yet. On top of that they'd lent their only blanket to Stephon for the night, hoping it would improve his chances of waking up.

At once the sounds of a low, faint voice reached Maric's ears. It was simple sleep talk, nothing intelligible, in any other case not important, but when Maric turned to attach a face to the voice, he was caught a bit off guard. Stephon had rolled to his side now and was talking to himself in a fitful slumber. Relief was the first feeling to hit Maric._ At least he's coming around._ He thought, approaching the swordsman carefully.

The knight's face was troubled in his slumber, a frown marked upon his features. His body was tense and his breathing was heavy now. Every now and then he would mumble. "N-.. G'rland... not r'dy t.." For a second it looked as if he might wake himself, but he simply shifted, and rolled to his back again.

_He still thinks he's battling Garland._ Maric concluded, trying to ignore the amusement he felt seeing Stephon in mid-nightmare. Perhaps it was simply how strong he usually seemed, to see him chased by night demons like a child seemed out of character for him.

"Ah... I.. I... can't..." He rolled over, throwing his arms up as if to shield his face from an oncoming blow. He gave a small cry, at once sitting up straight, as if aroused by his own cries. His eyes were wide, though only seeming to half comprehend his surroundings. Maric stumbled back, a bit startled to say the least. _Is he awake?_

"Stephon?" Maric asked softly.

"Talon..?" Stephon groaned sleepily, rubbing his eyes drowsily, as he let himself lay back down. "What happened?"

"Stephon it's me, Maric." Maric continued. "You're alright, we've got you now."

"Maric..." Stephon echoed, confusion in his voice. "Maric.. what... what did... wait... who?"

"Me, Celeste, and Shane." Maric replied. "The three of us went off to defeat Garland. Sara is with us too."

"Garland..." Stephon murmured, at first not seeming to comprehend the meaning of the name. Seconds later his eyes went wide. "G-Garland?" He shot up straight for a second, only to give a pained yelp and be forced to the ground again.

"It's okay, Garland is dead now." Maric said in as soothing a voice as he could muster. " Princess Sara is alright now, we killed Garland and rescued her."

Stephon seemed to shift, his body relaxing. He drew a shaky breath. Obviously he still hadn't quite recovered yet. With misty, far away eyes he looked up at Maric again.

"Talon?" He began again in the most sincere voice Maric had ever heard him use.

Maric cringed, unable to correct the boy again. He knew by now he wouldn't respond. _He's still delirious I suppose_. "What is it?"

"Talon I couldn't kill them." Stephon mumbled. "But that's okay. You were wrong, they aren't the way you thought they were. They aren't... the way you said they would be."

Maric faltered, not really knowing how to respond. Luckily he didn't have to, as Stephon went on.

"I don't know now... Garland wasn't evil either." Stephon continued. "You all thought he was, but he wasn't. He was just jealous, he wanted the kingdom and... maybe he could have helped us all if... if..."

Stephon trailed off, his eyes going very dull and soft. "You just wait Talon." He mumbled. "I'll let you meet the rest of the Light Warriors... you'll see... I... I think you'll... see..."

With a shutter he grew silent again, his eyes fluttering shut. Maric slowly drew away from the knight, reclining against a nearby tree._ At least he's getting better._ He thought, content now. Now at least he could be sure that Stephon was on the way to recovering, that was good. With one less worry on his mind Maric looked to the stars, watching the moon as it slowly traveled across the sky.

_In a couple more days this will all be over and done with._ He mused. _What do we do then. I'll free Rachen, and we'll most likely be rewarded for bringing Princess Sara back home, but what then? Rachen and I will have to leave eventually, the magic shop is gone. I suppose we could rebuild it, but what for? If we do become rich off this quest we won't need a magic shop anymore._

He looked back to the other four who were now resting peacefully beside him. _I wonder what will become of them. Stephon and Sara won't have much of a problem, but what of Celeste? Her parents, or siblings, or friends must think she's dead and gone by now. She'll sort it out but... I feel kind of bad for making her go through this like this._

He looked to the little black mage now. _And then there's Shane. What becomes of him? He doesn't have anywhere to go at all, unless he decides to come with Rachen and me._ He smiled at the thought. _Then again, it might not be such a bad idea having someone else around. I think I like that idea._

Maric realized only then that a sleepy feeling had drifted over him. The moon was still rather high, and there was quite a bit of night left, but even so the strain of the fight before had left him utterly exhausted. He fingered the size of his neck lightly, brushing the large, sloppy scar that was now etched into the side. In the end, he couldn't have gotten more lucky. The wound had been shallow. It had torn through muscle nerves and veins but nothing that couldn't be fixed with potion and prayer. If Garland's sword had gone any deeper, though, he'd have been killed regardless. After all, potions can't heal a ruptured wind pipe. In fact, particularly unskilled white mages, have been said to all but kill their patients by accidentally sealing their throats shut. Maric shuttered, trying not to think of what would have become of him, or any of the other Warriors of Light, had Garland's sword slipped another inch.

In the end, Maric had taken Celeste aside, and told her exactly why unless it was a situation much like the one they'd just come out of, she should never try something like that again. She had complied, though Maric had to wonder if she actually had understood a word he was saying, or cared all that much for that matter. Now, however, he didn't have the will to think about that. Even after potions and cure spells had stopped him from feeling like he'd just been all but beaten to death, he still felt rather drained._ After all, Stephon wasn't the only one who nearly got killed yesterday. _

Satisfied with that thought, he consented to close his eyes if only for a moment.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_A ship was adrift in a calm sea. A ship with white sails, and an intricately decorated mast. The sea was calm, and blue, lazily swaying back and forth, and rocking the ship gently like an infant's cradle, and the sky was a clear blue, adrift with clouds that were big and fluffy like giant snowballs floating in the sky. The scene was familiar, strangely familiar in a near surreal way. All at once rain clouds gathered above the ship, and the wind began to blow ominously. _

_Rain began to pour from now gray clouded skies. In seconds the ship would collapse, just as it always did. It was eminent, most likely only a matter of seconds, but this time, in those seconds, man could be seen on the deck of the boat. A white mage, a youth from the looks of it standing opposite from a dark haired menacing looking man. Talon perhaps, it certainly looked like Talon. The two figures stared at each other for a few seconds more before lightning struck. The ship collapsed, and the scene was no more. _

"W-wait! Talon!" The scene vanished from sight and at once light filled Stephon's eyes. The dim greenish glow was the first thing Stephon saw as he awoke, sitting straight up at once and looking around to the faces around him. Celeste, Maric, Half-Mage, and even Princes Sara were all huddled around him rather closely. He recoiled a bit.

"Ye gods, the boy lives." The princess was the first to speak, and had a look of awe in her eyes as she spoke.

"Sir Carris! You're alright!" Half-mage followed closely behind Lady Sara, looking both overjoyed and relieved.

"Stephon, are you feeling alright?" Celeste was also hovering above him, and the three were beginning to close in on him. A vaguely claustrophobic feeling swept over him, "We were all worried, you gave us all a big scare back there."

"Is everything alright, Sir Carris? You do look a bit pale yet"

"Perhaps he's still tired."

"You really should get some rest, you know."

"Please leave me be!" At once the three before him stopped talking, and exchanged a couple of worried glances. Presently, Stephon found himself near falling back to the ground after the advancing faces had come far too close for comfort. "Now, will someone please tell me what is going on here?" He looked around a bit fearfully now, "And what on Gaia is Lady Sara doing here? How did all of this happen? Where's Garland?"

"Why, master Carris." Lady Sara looked a bit surprised. "These brave souls are the ones who saved your life, and killed Lord Garland after he imprisoned me at the temple."

Stephon paled. _Brave souls? _He repeated in his mind. _She couldn't mean... oh ye gods, they couldn't have..._

"What do you mean they killed Garland?" Stephon near cried, "There's no possible way they could have... not after I... it isn't possible!"

"Well, it wasn't easy," Celeste admitted, "but you could give us some credit you know. I mean, we really had to work hard to catch him off his guard. We nearly lost Maric too, after Garland got a hold of him."

"Garland is never off his guard." Stephon growled, "I should know after he managed to..." at once he trailed off. His breath left him for a moment as the battlefield, still vivid in his mind, came back to him all at once. He could see Garland standing above him, smirking as he retrieved his sword from Stephon's back.

At once he clutched his shoulder where Garland's sword had once protruded. There now was nothing but a hole in his chain mail and a rather sloppy scar. He moved his hand back over his heart, still beating, though now a bit more quickly than before. He looked up at the three before him, pale faced.

"He killed me..." Stephon murmured, shaking his head as he looked upon the three before him once more, Shane and Celeste and Sara. _How can this be._ He wondered, his hands suddenly shaking. _How is this possible? I was sure I'd died there. Unless..._ Warily Stephon turned towards Maric, eying him cautiously.

"Maric?" Stephon grunted at once, "Come here will you?"

"Why? What did I do?" Maric's eyes widened a bit as he was called out. This entire time he hadn't said a word, and Stephon knew now why that most likely was.

"Maric, exactly what did you do to me?" Stephon asked, forcing his voice to remain even.

"What are you talking about?" Maric frowned. "I didn't do.."

"Out with it now, mage, what kind of foul necromancy did you perform on my body?" Stephon sprung forward now, seizing Maric by the throat. A slight ripple of pain shot up his arms as he grabbed the boy. "Answer me!"

"St-Stephon!" Maric gasped, struggling to pull out of Stephon's grip, and utterly failing. "I didn't... It.. i-it's not... I ju-just used... Stephon let... let go I c-... c-an't... breathe..."

Paling, Stephon dropped the mage, flushing a bit as the boy recovered, though still glaring at him sourly. _In retrospect, I should probably stop doing that to the poor boy. I think we've all been through enough in the last few days._

"Master Carris," Stephon winced, looking up at a red faced looking lady Sara bore down on him, "that is no way to treat the man who saved your life."

Stephon paled, at once rising to one knee, faltering a bit as he did. "I.. I apologize, Lady Sara, I meant no harm to him, I..."

"No harm indeed." the young woman huffed, "Why the boy's face turned about as red as his cloaks. Don't bow to me in apology, if anything, you ought to be bowing to him."

Stephon's heart sank, and he looked over at the red mage hesitantly. Maric blushed a similar red color to the one the princess had been describing.

"Ah.. that's... not necessary Lady Sara." Maric dismissed the girl nervously. "Stephon is still recovering, I was never in all that much danger. I could have thrown him off if I'd wanted to, but I couldn't bring myself to hurt the poor devil, and..." A dubious look from both Celeste and Stephon silenced Maric after a few seconds, and the red mage retreated back into silence with a final sentiment of, "Well, I could have..."

Shane blinked, looking a little perplexed, "But... then..." he looked up at Maric questioningly, "Then why did you let Stephon almost strangle you before when..."

"Ahh that wasn't...!" Maric cut the boy off at once, glancing nervously at Lady Sara with a hesitant smile, before turning back to glare at the boy, "That was _different, _Shane."

Shane recoiled a bit, "Oh," near instantly he was silent.

A guilty feeling gripped Stephon, momentarily. _They mean to... to protect me?_ He frowned. _Why? I've been nothing but horrible to them this entire time. Why should they help me? _He ground his teeth _For that matter, why should I need help from them?_

"Enough of all this." Stephon cried, jumping to his feet. "We've lost enough time today, and if you think I'm content to sit here all day, when Lady Sara is still in danger you're all horribly m-..." As the rush of energy that had propelled him to his feet left him, Stephon felt a strange, heavy feeling in his limbs that immediately dragged him back to the hard ground once more. "One moment please."

"Sir Carris," Shane looked over Stephon, predictably, looking rather worried. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Stephon glared at Shane momentarily. _Do I look alright, boy?_ He thought to ask, but he knew with Princess Sara hovering over him he would have to tame his tongue, if only for the moment. _After all, I'll be rid of these filthy commoners in no time at all. The Princess is safe, we've succeeded._

But somehow the prospect of sweet victory didn't taste quite so sweet to Stephon. Where he'd thought before that he would feel accomplished and satisfied after Garland had died, he found only disappointment, confusion, and even more bitterness than before. It was discouraging in a way, the fact that even after he'd been met with success, he still felt absolutely miserable.

_Perhaps, it's because I didn't kill Garland myself. _He looked to the other three warriors, glaring coldly at the group of them. They were the ones who killed the man, not him. He had only managed to make himself look like a fool, rushing in to meet his death. How had Princess Sara seen him? As a bloody mess on the floor, pierced through like the rotting carcass of a forest imp, left to die on the forest floor? How could he look at her now? Now after he had been humiliated in a way no man should ever be. After failing in the one most important battle he would ever fight.

_It'd have been better if they had left me there._ Stephon thought bitterly, _I was dead enough for them. I don't see why they didn't. After all, what have I done for them? Why am I so important? _ He spat, turning, _They see me as weak, as a child who needs protecting. An arrogant, spoiled child. They think they're better than me, because they killed Garland when I couldn't. _ He snarled, _I'll show them._

"Alright men, I want to be back in Corneria in two days. We lost enough time getting here, and we've waisted enough daylight today as it stands," the other warriors and Lady Sara looked at Stephon with surprise, "I want to be through the swamps by mid-day, do you hear me?"

"Are you sure Stephon?" Celeste looked a little worried, shifting uncomfortably as she eyed the knight. "You haven't fully recovered yet."

"I am absolutely sure." Stephon said at once, "Lady Sara must be returned to the safety of Castle Corneria as soon as possible, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir!" Shane piped up, immediately falling back into his 'ready for duty' stance. Stephon smiled wryly. _If only he knew exactly how ridiculous he looked._

"Right then," Stephon sighed, it was if nothing had changed. Shane was still ridiculously strange, Maric was still annoying, Celeste was still sarcastic, the only difference was that now Lady Sara was with them. Perhaps that made all of the difference.

They began their march when the sun was half way up the sky. No meals, they had to conserve food in order to make it back to Corneria alive, and even skipping that, they'd lost a lot of time.

_The sooner we're back the better. _ Stephon quickened his pace slightly. He didn't hesitate to take the lead in the group now. Without having to worry about being stabbed from behind, he found he trusted the four of them enough to lead them from the front, instead of from behind. Honestly it was a little embarrassing, listening to peasants talking to Lady Sara as if she was as common as they were. Somehow the girl laughed and talked right along as if she'd known them her entire life. The entire thing was irking to say the least.

"And when Rachen and I went back in, you couldn't imagine the looks on their faces when they realized we'd been listening the entire time." Maric was laughing, now, and the other three were listing half in intrigue and half in amusement.

"So, what did you do?" Princess Sara's eyes were wide in interested, "Did you get your gil back?"

"Well, yes, of course we did." Maric replied, hesitating a bit at the girl's sudden interest. In another second he relaxed, "But the look on their faces, ye gods." he laughed, "You'd have sworn they had seen a ghost"

Stephon's hands slowly balled into fists as he listen and walked. To imagine a dirty common blooded mage with the brains of a forest imp could think to talk so casually to a princess. It wasn't right. It shouldn't have been, never in a thousand years should the likes of commoners be allowed to walk alongside royalty like this, especially one as fair and graceful as Lady Sara. Stephon scowled.

It was all common talk that he spoke of too. Talk of pubs and bar fights, and men who try to swindle gil. _As if it wasn't bad enough that he thinks to talk to her at all. _He shook his head in disdain. _Well... it could be worse. He could be talking about something like..._

"No, no," Maric was explaining something now, "White magic has nothing to do with bringing back the dead, that's what people don't seem to understand. Once a person's body is dead. No pulse, no life, no breath, nothing, I can't bring them back. Now, if it were Necromancy, you would be able to, but you have to sell your soul to some pretty strange gods if you want to get powers like..."

"Maric!" Stephon cried, stopping and turning around to face the red mage. Maric looked confused, a look of apparent innocence on his face.

"What?"

Stephon glared at the boy, but Maric only gave him an even more vacant look than he'd had before. Sighing, Stephon pulled the boy aside.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak of such things in front of Lady Sara." Stephon growled.

Maric frowned, "What? What did I do wrong?"

"Speaking of Necromancy and Selling Souls?" Stephon asked, his voice raising to a harsh whisper, "Those aren't topics fit for a princess to be hearing, you.."

"Master Carris, I think I can listen to what ever talk I wish." Lady Sara's voice interrupted Stephon, " A princess must be entirely aware of what goes on in her kingdom, including the otherworldly things."

"Lady Sara, please try to understand..."

"Understand what, Carris?" a smirk was on the girl's lips, " Need I to remind you that you yourself owe your life to a magician's hand? I think it's fair enough to say that the idea of magic is worth looking into."

Stephon let his hand fall to his sides, defeated. "My apologies Lady Sara." He grunted, turning back to his march.

_She thinks of me as a child. _Stephon was beginning to feel distressed. _She doesn't want me. What if she doesn't see me as fit to be king. After all, I did abandon my subjects in favor of fighting a losing battle alone. I was a fool, of course she sees me as that._

"Come then, men." Stephon's voice was soft now, near humbled, "We're... waisting daylight."

"You're sure you feel alright, Sir Carris?" Shane's voice came once more from behind them. Stephon gritted his teeth, only just stopping himself from drawing his sword.

"Half-mage, I have said before, I'm feeling just fine." he said between gritted teeth, "I got into a little situation. It's over now. I'm fine."

_Just one little flick of the wrist and I'd never have to hear that grating voice again. _The thought calmed him a little, but even if he could get past the annoying conscience that held him back from running the boy through, he'd never be able to fight off Maric and Celeste in this condition, and even if he did, he'd never be able to face Lady Sara after that. _Ye gods, why does everything have to be so difficult?_

Whether it was minutes or hours that passed as they walked, Stephon couldn't say. One minute the sun was high over head, and in the next a group of dark clouds had rolled in above them, tinting the sky a dark hazy gray. It wasn't long until Stephon heard thunder in the distance, and was quite sure he'd felt a few droplets of water a few minutes back.

"Well, that doesn't look good." Maric commented, looking a little hesitant at best as he came up behind Stephon.

Stephon saw what he meant at once. The marshlands they'd crossed before stretched out before them now, looking far darker and more foreboding than before. A light drizzle had started now, one that threatened to turn into a full blown storm before the hour was through. Lightning cracked once more against the sky, as if trumpeting the storm's coming. It would be difficult to cross the marshlands now to say the least. The first time around they'd all nearly lost their lives, and that was without the extra princess following them around.

"Maybe we should wait until the rain stops." Celeste looked a bit wary herself, looking out at the swamp, pale faced.

_We'll be waisting time. _ Stephon thought, looking back out at the marshlands, _It can't be that bad. We made it through the first time, and I managed to do so on my own for the most part. Besides, with the thunder, those wild horses won't be anywhere for miles._

"We'll cross it now." Stephon said at once, prompting a few dubious looks from the other Warriors of Light.

"Stephon, have you lost your mind?" Celeste nearly cried, "We'll never make it through. If we manage to make it through without getting killed by gray imps or horses, we'll just end up getting stuck anyway."

"And obviously these conditions will magically disappear after the storm is gone, right?" Stephon said flatly, "Come on, we're waisting time."

The rain was beginning to pick up now. Already Stephon could feel the rainwater seeping through his chainmail, and beginning to drench his undershirt. Maric's hat was drooping slightly with the rain water, and honestly he looked a bit like a wet cat with his clothes sticking to him. The sparse thief's outfit Celeste usually wore did little to protect her from the cold rainwater, and already, she looked rather cold and miserable, as did Lady Sara, who was dressed only in a silk nightgown that was presently becoming more and more translucent as the seconds passed.

"Stephon, I really don't think this is..." Maric began now. At last Stephon could take no more.

"Well do you want to know what I think?" Stephon interrupted him, "I think it'd be better if we all stopped talking, and started moving. Come on."

Stephon took a few heavy steps forward now, and for a second, the four others hesitated. _They'll follow. _ Stephon thought, not even giving so much as a backwards glance to his fellow warriors. _They have nowhere else to go now._

After a few seconds he heard the sloshing of feet within the wet, muddy bog behind him. One, then two, then three. After a few seconds he stopped, realizing that a fourth member hadn't followed them into the bog. Stephon turned to see a nervous, and rather wet looking Princess Sara standing at the edge of the bog just before the solid ground turned to mud.

"What are you waiting for?" Stephon urged, trying not to sound too irritated. It was difficult when so much seemed wrong with the world.

"Ah... I'm having a slight problem I.. ah...." the girl blushed a little.

"What, you don't want to walk in the mud?" Celeste asked, laughing, "Honestly, you'll have a bit more to worry about than a little dirty water when we get deeper in. This is the easy part."

"Well, I..." The girl took another step back, "It.. it's not as if I..."

Stephon didn't waste another second. At once he strode over to the girl, scooping her into his arms swiftly. Lady Sara gave out a small cry.

"Master Carris, what on Gaia do you think you're doing?"

"If your highness doesn't wish to cross the bog, you won't have to." Stephon said, smiling, "As a knight it _is_ my duty to aid you."

"It's probably the closest he's ever been to a woman." Maric whispered to Shane, who looked up at Stephon quizzically.

"Sir Carris?" He asked rather loudly.

"Shh!"

"I heard that you know." Stephon glared at Maric sourly, who presently was turning a rather pleasant shade of red. After a second he added in a low, bitter voice, "and you're not quite one to talk."

"Now that just wasn't called for." Maric mumbled, looking a little sore.

Half-mage looked confused to say the least, and Celeste simply looked amused. Stephon gave an annoyed huff, reclaiming his place at the front of the line. _At least this will be over soon. _ He sighed, attempting to keep Lady Sara fast in his grip. He'd have to admit, she was rather heavy for a princess, and the rainwater wasn't helping at all.

What was once a drizzle had become a full blown torrent. The wind whipped around them, driving sheets of rain into the five travelers. Stephon felt his face growing numb with the cold, and soon, just about every inch of his body was entirely saturated. He had to feel bad for the other Light Warriors, especially Celeste, who sloshed along after Stephon with her goosebump speckled arms wrapped tightly around her body. _There's a possibility that this wasn't such a good idea. _ Stephon admitted to himself after about twenty minutes of sloshing through muddy water. _If we had waited the storm out, we'd at least be a little less miserable, if nothing else. _ Another clap of thunder echoed through the hills as a strike of thunder shot through the sky. Stephon shuttered. _I suppose it's a bit too late to turn back now._

Another flash of lightning parted the dark sky, followed by a sharp cry from Half-Mage. Stephon turn at once, nearly dropping Princess Sara when he instinctively reached for his sword. Shane looked around warily now, looking frightened out of his mind.

"What's wrong?" of course Maric was the first to ask. When it came to Shane, he always was. _You'd think he's the boy's mother or something. Ye gods._

"I... I..." Shane stuttered, looking around, after a second, he lowered his hands, "I thought I saw something."

"What kind of something?" Celeste asked now, suddenly seeming worried, "Ye gods, if it's those horses again I'll..."

"It isn't going to be the horses." Stephon dismissed the girl, "I said before, they wouldn't be about in this weather. Half-Mage scared them off with a lightning spell before, now the entire sky is filled with it. They're probably miles from here by now."

"I... but I'm sure I saw it..." Shane said looking about, "A dark figure in tattered cloaks, with bright glowing eyes like... like..."

"Like you?" Celeste finished for the boy at last, eying him dryly.

"N-no not like..." He looked around, "Well... I guess you could say... it wasn't like that though, it appeared in a flash of thunder, and in the next it was gone. It was like... Like those spirits you were talking about, Maric."

_They're real?_ Stephon paled, stepping back. Maric had told them about the spirits before, but Stephon had taken it in jest. _I suppose from the same boy who talks about Necromancy..._

"There aren't any spirits, Shane." Maric laughed, "don't worry, I was just trying to scare Celeste a little. It's just a story."

"What?" Celeste cried, "You made them up?"

"Well of course not!" Maric laughed, "They're real, they're just not around here. I told you that before. And they don't actually steal souls. You're probably just seeing things in the rain. Are you sure it isn't just the lightning?"

"I'm not afraid of lightning." Shane mumbled, looking a little defensive. With that another peal of thunder boomed through the heavens. Shane gave a little yelp, flinching. "err.. not much anyway." He amended.

"How can you be afraid of lightning?" Celeste laughed, "You're a mage. I've seen you use thunder spells before!"

"Well spell casting is different in a way." Shane explained, "When you cast a spell, you have control over it, you usually won't get hit with your own lightning. I've never seen it happen anyway. With live lightning, you could, and... well I've seen exactly what it can do. The effects can be devastating sometimes."

"It'll let up soon enough." Stephon sighed, smirking, "Come along."

"Quite a crowd you've managed to find, Master Carris." Lady Sara looked a little amused.

Stephon nodded, smiling. It was nice to see the princess smile. "They're an interesting bunch." he agreed, "Never a dull moment."

Another thunder strike cut through the sky. This time it was Maric who cried out.

"Stephon, I think we have a problem."

"Oh what is it now?" Stephon sighed, turning around again.

"I think there really might be some... ah..." Maric looked a bit embarrassed as he spoke, "Well, some spirits. I think Shane might be right."

Shane nodded vigorously.

"Maric, that's incredibly juvenile." Stephon said, shaking his head.

"What?"

"You just said there were no ghosts."

"Well I.." Maric looked around, looking a bit distressed, "I was wrong, there really is something."

"You probably saw Half-Mage or something." Stephon dismissed him, turning around.

"Stephon that isn't funny. I'm being serious, you know I..."

Maric never got to finish his sentence. Instead he trailed into a terror stricken cry, followed by Celeste and Shane. Stephon turned to see the three of them staring wide eyed at a floating shadow faced creature. It had a tattered, smoke like appearance, and seemed to be only just a little less than solid. It's eyes, were as Shane had described, bright and yellow, and yet, unlike his. These eyes were emotionless, staring out from a blank abyss. Stephon felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw the creature, hovering above a terror stricken Maric, who sat before the thing shuttering in fear.

At once Celeste lunged at the creature, driving her knife into what would have been the creature's flesh. Where Celeste's blade had been, the spirit disappeared, shriveling into nothing. Stephon stared at the three of them, wide eyed.

"Was... was that...?" Stephon could barely stop himself from shaking long enough to form words.

Maric nodded, righting himself shakily, "There's more, we need to be ready for..."

Stephon lowered Sara to her feet, drawing his sword. The other three were armed as well. All except for Maric, who looked about, suddenly looking rather helpless.

"Here." Celeste had drawn a rather large ornate looking sword from her belt. Ornate, yet somehow familiar. Stephon frowned, studying the sword carefully.

"Where did you get this?" Maric asked, studying the blade. He struggled a bit to heft the blade into the air, but ultimately failed.

"Temple of Fiends." Celeste said softly.

"Wait..." Maric looked at the blade again, "is this...? Celeste you didn't..."

"Well after Garland died, I figured he wasn't using the sword." Celeste said, a little too casually, "It seemed like such a waste so I just figured..."

"Oh ye gods, Celeste!" Stephon cried, "You can't just... that isn't... ye gods, did you bother to steal the armor off his body as well?"

"No! No I didn't!" Celeste protested, looking a bit red in the face, "Although I... he did have a bit of gil on him..."

"Celeste! How could you?" Stephon cried, "Stealing off of a dead man? That's like..."

"Well I took the gil while he was alive." Celeste defended herself, "Most of it anyway."

Another thunder strike interrupted the two of them, and at once Stephon found himself face to face with a spirit's tattered form, yellow eyes piercing into Stephon's. The knight cried out, flailing with his sword, and slashing wildly at the spirit. His sword slid right through the creature's vapor like body. The spirit's blank, glowing eyes turned on Stephon. A small ball of black energy formed in the thing's hand, pulsating and sucking at itself as if it were alive. Even looking at it, a cold feeling rushed over Stephon, as if contained in that small black ball was all the misery and anguish of the world, and suddenly, he found that the small black ball was flying towards him.

A chill rushed down Stephon's spine. For a second his breath left him, and he staggered to his knees, gasping. A pain hit him like a dagger in his chest, stunning him for the moment. _This isn't going to work, we can't fight them like this._

"Maric, Half-Mage, start up on some magic!" Stephon cried, righting himself shakily, "If physical combat won't work, we're going to have to try something new."

"Shane is trying!" Maric called back, while making a blind swipe at another spirit, "I think the lightning is distracting him, he's having some trouble casting!"

"Well what about you, you have spells." Stephon called back, "Make some use of yourself."

"I tried!" Maric cried, "Fire spells won't work in the rain, I tried it, they go right out. I don't really know the thunder spell either. What am I supposed to do?"

"Get on healing, I don't know!" Stephon cried, "Put them to sleep or something, be creative!"

"Healing..." Maric's words were thoughtful, as he dodged out of the way of another attack, "Stephon, you're a genius!"

"What? What are you talking abou-.." another attack caught Stephon off his guard, as another dark missile hit Stephon's arm, making his entire hand go numb. He cried out, clutching his limb as his sword dropped to the ground, useless.

"_Cure!" _ Maric's voice rang out above the pounding rain. _Thank the gods, Maric is on healing. Now maybe I can get some respite. _ Much to Stephon's surprise, however, the pleasant, cool feeling of a healing spell never came to him. Instead he looked up to see the blue tendrils of calm light drifting about one of the spirits. Near immediately the creature exploded into a fine dust and was no more.

"What?" Stephon didn't quite know what to say to that.

"The ghosts are undead." Maric called over to Stephon, "If curative spells help to heal the living, they must do the opposite to the undead."

"That makes no sense!" Stephon cried back, swinging his sword wildly at one of the spirits.

"It worked didn't it?" Maric called back, raising his arms as if to prepare another cure spell, "I don't argue with what works."

Stephon shrugged, dodging out of the way of another spirit's lunge. _I can barely keep this up. _Stephon thought wearily. With his body still recovering from near death, he wasn't quite at speed yet, and this battle was demanding every bit of strength he had plus more. _I wonder how lady Sara is doing in all of this._

A shrill cry answered Stephon's silent question. The knight turned, gripping his sword as tightly as his hands would allow him to, to see Princess Sara standing on a rock surrounded by the demon like beings.

"Lady Sara!" Stephon cried.

He reached for his sword with his good arm now, charging headlong for the group of ghosts. One sweep should have cut through all of the creatures' shadowy forms, and all at once they all disappeared only to reappear around Stephon. The knight paled, looking around frantically. _Those things'll kill me __in a second if I don't do something. _He thought, looking around at the apparitions. _But if I try to attack, they'll all jump at me. What do I do?_

A sudden splash of liquid slapped Stephon in the face. Celeste stood before the knight now, with a now half empty potion bottle in her hand. Before her the spirit burst into a pile of ash, floating away on the wind. The girl turned, splashing the rest of the ghosts with potion as well. Relief flooded Stephon as the last ghost melted into a fine mist and floated away.

Stephon sighed, smiling lightly. _Thank the gods. _He thought looking to the skies, _ If that lasted any longer, I'm sure I'd have died right here. _

"Lady Sara." Stephon looked to the princess now, bowing slightly, "You are unharmed."

"I'm perfectly fine, master Carris." the girl affirmed, "and you."

"Just fine." Stephon nodded, "Shall we be off?"

The girl nodded. Stephon approached her slowly. In truth he was a bit weary himself from the fighting.

"I can't believe that worked." Maric was laughing, "Curative spells to kill the undead. Who'd have thought?"

"You were talking about Necromancy before, Maric." Shane offered, "Necromancy is just a form of dark magic. Curative magic is a form of white magic, one of the lightest forms of it. Just like the way the rain water killed your fire spells, white magic helps to banish dark magic like necromancy. You understand, right?"

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Maric cried.

"Well, I was trying to cast." Shane defended himself, "And I was distracted by the..." A crack of thunder cut the boy off, and small yelp replaced whatever he had been about to say.

"In any case I think we've learned exactly how much Maric knows about the likes of Necromancy." Stephon smirked.

"What?"

"Well, you said there weren't any ghosts here." Stephon said at once, "You were so sure of yourself on that that you made up stories about them to spite them, and then the next thing you know they were here."

"Well I..." Maric started,

"If you know so much about Spirits, why couldn't you tell if there were any in the swamp?"

"I-... I knew." Maric said at once, "I-.. I just didn't want to scare you all is all. I really didn't think they'd attack us like that, I was just.."

"Sure." Stephon laughed, "Right, as if I'm that much of a fool."

"I'm telling the truth!" Maric cried. A dubious look from Celeste and Shane made him suddenly look a little less confident, "Well, I was..."

The red mage leaned over onto the sword that had once been Garland's, sticking the tip into the muddy ground. It was a large blade, nearly twice the size of his last one, and he seemed to be having trouble carrying the thing, much less wielding it.

"Would you rather use my sword instead?" Stephon asked. Maric looked up suddenly.

"No I think I'll be fine with..." the red mage trailed off, looking at the weapon he now held, and then at Stephon's relatively small sword, "On second thought, maybe I should."

Stephon unsheathed his blade. It was an older sword, nothing all that valuable. Garland's sword was much more meaningful than his own, and Stephon couldn't say that Maric would do the great swordsman's blade justice by swinging it around like a savage. Stephon found that the large ornate blade was actually quite a bit lighter than he'd expected. Still gripping it in both hands made arcs of pain shoot down his arms. The healing spell Maric had cast on his hands were wearing off now, and in the last battle, one of the wounds had reopened. Blood was oozing down the side of his hand now, mixing with rainwater. _Lovely._

Maric held Stephon's sword up now, testing the balance of the blade. "This is a lot easier to wield. Thanks." Maric smiled slightly, "Are you... sure you can handle that. With your ah..."

"I'll be fine, I'm sure." Stephon replied, "I'll take another potion if I need to, but honestly, I think I'll be fine. Just make sure you don't break my sword."

"I won't." Maric nodded, sheathing the blade.

"Well, we should be off now?" Stephon looked around. The rain was coming down even harder now, and didn't show any signs of letting up. At this rate we'll sink into the swamps. We ought to be out of here as soon as we can.

"I'm surprised, Lord Carris." Lady Sara smiled, as Stephon approached the girl, "The way you get along with the other Warriors, I could almost mistake you for a commoner."

Stephon felt a chill run down his spine. He faltered for a second._ Commoner?_ The word seemed to cut him life a knife. Garland's words from the day before washed over him. "_This mission of his was tailored for you, wasn't it? To get his bastard son out of the way so that his ruddy blood line could run on into royalty."_

_The man was mad, don't take his words to heart. _ Stephon instructed himself._ Just the ramblings of a jealous old lout. After all, I was to be king. Any merit he could take from me before my death, he would certainly take. Well hear this, Garland. I won't believe it,I'm not dead, and you will not have the crown. There, I've defied you three times._ Even so, the victory didn't taste all that sweet. Probably because it was easy enough to defy a dead man.

"Stephon?" Lady Sara's voice was soft as it called to Stephon, "What's the matter, you look pale all of a sudden."

"What.. what's the matter?" Stephon echoed, his throat suddenly dry, "Ah nothing... nothing's the matter. Nothing at all Lady Sara, I'm perfectly fine."

"You look awful, Stephon, what are you talking about?" even Celeste sounded slightly worried, "You're going to run yourself into your grave. That is, if you don't run us to ours first."

"For the last time, Celeste, I am as well as I'm going to be." Stephon cried out, "The only thing that will make me more ill, is having Lady Sara out here, in constant danger, in the middle of this vile swamp. Now if you would please..."

"Master Carris, she is only concerned for your health." Princess Sara interjected, "You were almost lost once, and none of us wish to lose you again."

"I'm _sure_ I will be fine, Celeste," Stephon said coolly, "And even so, my personal health is little concern of yours."

"But it is, Carris." Lady Sara cried, "Is she not your teammate, your loyal follower?"

"Loyal?" Stephon laughed, "Her, loyal? Excuse me, Lady Sara, you've misread me. These men follow my word, but I'm no more their leader than I am yours. These aren't my men, Lady Sara. It's a wonder they even follow my word up to this point, though I suppose they would otherwise have a lack of words to follow. No, I'm not their leader. Did you truly believe they were sent on this quest for nothing more than the glory of the crown? These are the likes of thieves and criminals, nothing more than street urchins, scrambling for one last shot at their pathetic lives. Why the two mages here were set to hang on the gallows within a day's time. The girl faced life in prison. These men only went on the quest in the first place to save themselves, not to free you. They're no more my allies than they are yours, and the minute we set foot back in Corneria, I'd like nothing more than to never have the misfortune to meet any of them again."

There was silence for a second. Only after a few seconds did Stephon notice the saddened, and accusing looks the other Light Warriors were giving him.

"Sir Carris..." Half-Mage was the first of them to speak, "Do you.. do you really think of us that way?" The boy looked close to tears.

Stephon's mouth hung open. He looked from Princess Sara to the mage a few times, his mouth opening and closing a few times. "I.. I..."

"Well... it's good of you to let us know how you feel." Celeste's voice was icy as she stepped forward, "Come on then, I'd feel dirty if I had to invade your personal space with my presence for all that much longer."

With that the girl began striding away, taking large steps that showed marks of how far the swamp water rose up her legs. Stephon stood as if stricken, watching as Maric and then Half-Mage passed Stephon with saddened looks in their eyes. _What have I done? _Stephon couldn't help but wonder.

"You're right, Stephon." Princess Sara's voice was just as icy and low as Celeste's now, "It is a wonder they follow your words. I wouldn't."

"Lady Sara, I..." Stephon began helplessly, but the royal girl cut him off.

"I think I'm well enough to walk on my own, Master Carris." With that Lady Sara strode away.

Stephon lowered his arms in defeat. _Perhaps I spoke too harshly. _ He thought watching as the other Warriors of Light strode away. _No.. no it isn't a matter of 'perhaps', I had a good thing going, and I managed to crush it within an instant. This goes beyond foolish, they must think I'm a baffoon, or worse, a heartless master who holds no love for his subjects. I'd be dead without them, of course I cherish their loyalty. I should have never questioned it. Ye gods what is wrong with me?_

The three Warriors of Light were drawing away from Stephon now, slowly fading into the rain. Stephon took a couple long steps to catch up with them, not wanting to be left behind. There was a nervous tension that lingered over the five of them now, and a tacit hostility that seemed to be directed towards Stephon entirely. Of all of them, Lady Sara seemed the most disgusted, shooting a cold glance towards Stephon every so often.

"I honestly don't see why you follow him." the girl was whispering to Celeste. Of all of them, Sara seemed to have connected best with the thief girl, if only out of a common gender and the fact that both of them were otherwise alienated, "All this while he's been treating you all like common servants. As if he could care less what becomes of you. What if you all get into a situation like he was in, would you really rely on him to risk his life for all of you?"

A pang shot through Stephon's heart. _They couldn't, could they?I could never have pulled a rescue like that off. As it stands, they went to lengths that bordered on miracles and necromancy, and on top of that they risked everything to finish a fight I couldn't win. At that point, I'm sure I would have run._

"That's not entirely true." Celeste's words made Stephon look up, "Stephon is... complicated in a way. He talks big a lot, and in truth he is a little too overbearing and demanding at times, and sometimes I do wish he would lighten up a bit and stop being so bitter. And.. he is a bit selfish, and cruel, and ye gods when he and his brother betrayed my trust, I could have sworn he was the most vile creautre ever spawned to Gaia."

Stephon flushed, _Well, I suppose I do deserve that. _he smirked, _After all, I can't exactly deny it._

"But, given all that I... I really can't say he's all that bad." Celeste's voice was soft suddenly, "He's not a bad leader, much better than you'll give him credit for, and despite his demands, despite all that, there have been times when push came to shove that I honestly doubt we'd have made it through if he wasn't there."

"You can't just forget his cruelties because he's a good leader!" Sara cried now, "Ye gods, why, he tried to strangle the boy who ended up saving his life."

Celeste smirked, "There are some points when I think we'd all like to strangle Maric."

"Hey!" Maric cried, looking back at Celeste. The girl waved him off, laughing.

"Anyway, you shouldn't be so quick to judge him. He's a little rough, and honestly, I think he's a little put off that he had to be the one getting rescued, but he's generally not a bad guy once you get to know him." Celeste smiled at her royal companion.

_She really thinks that way about me? _For a second, Stephon felt almost happy, _Even after I said all those things? I thought she all but hated me, even before, with the way I betrayed her, and all the rest of them. With the way I treated them before...why does she defend me now? I don't understand._

"And of all things Miss Sara," Celeste said softly, "I think Stephon cares for you most of all."

The girl looked confused suddenly, "What?"Stephon blushed slightly.

"It was on your account that Stephon led us out here in the first place. Honestly what Stephon said wasn't entirely false. Maric and Half-Mage and I aren't quite out here for glory. We didn't have a choice. I myself wanted to run away, and I only kept up the quest with the prospect of earning some sort of reward." She smiled, "Don't get me wrong, as it turns out I like you as a person, but you have to understand, I don't do charity all that often. Stephon was the only one here who went out here to find you only to ensure your safety."

"Really?" The girl's eyes were wide suddenly.

"Really? It was just about the only thing he'd talk about!" Celeste cried, "Ye gods, if he didn't care about you, why would he have tried to fight Garland one on one?"

"He had a duel with... Garland?" the girl's face was pale now. She looked back at Stephon for a second with awe before turning back to Celeste. "Didn't you do anything?"

"He didn't want us there when he fought Garland." Celeste admitted, "We almost left him behind."

"Maybe he didn't want to share the glory of victory with any of you." Sara pointed out.

"That's possible, but that's not what he said." Celeste looked down. The royal girl gave her a quizzical glance, urging her on, "He told me that he didn't want to see any of us get killed, so he wanted to go alone. He said he didn't want us to throw away our lives on something like this."

"Then why did you come back?"

Celeste smiled suddenly. "I don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know why I came back for him. I just did. It didn't feel right to leave him to die." Celeste folded her hands behind the back of her head, "and in a way, I'm glad we did. I'm glad Stephon isn't dead, to be honest."

Stephon smiled. _I'm glad too. I rather like being alive _ He thought, nearly laughing. He'd have interjected, but right now, he figured he'd said enough for the moment.

_After all, I have some mysteries of my own to solve now. _ The light hearted feeling left Stephon now, and he left off listening in on the two girls' conversation. _When we get back to Corneria, I have to speak with my father about all of this. _Stephon knew it shouldn't have been all that important. Honestly Garland's words were probably nothing more than a mad man's rambling, but even so, they shook him. Young women often had love affairs with other men in their more tender years, especially with so many persuasive fiends around. Stephon's mother wasn't exactly a chaste woman by any means, if he was a bastard child, it wouldn't come of much surprise to him. _This could be my ruination. A child born a bastard isn't fit to rule a kingdom. And if Garland knew about my lineage... he did know my father as a young man, perhaps he knew my mother too. Perhaps he was..._

Stephon swallowed hard. _No.. I'm not going to think about those kinds of things right now. Garland's dead now, he doesn't matter. I'll just have this matter cleared up and that will be all._

Again a terrible thought struck him, as he remembered Garland's other words concerning his father. _What if it was his idea to begin with? _Stephon chewed the inside of his lip, _Maybe he sent me out here to get killed. Except it was the king who sent me. Unless father told the king to send me but... how would he have even known about the quest? Ye gods, what am I supposed to think? _He shook his head now, _No, I'm thinking too hard on this. It's not even a fact that I'm not my father's son. This could all be a trick of the mind. It's probably just a mad man's talk. He was mad, after all._

Stephon sighed, looking out at his four companions. _I wonder if they'd ever accept me? _He sighed, _Probably not. Not now at any rate. There was a point when they might have, but I ruined that a while ago. Even so, I do hope they end up happy. _It was strange to think that the end was drawing near. In two days he would wake up in his own bed at his father's manor with Talon at his side. Celeste would be in the streets, hopefully back with the thief clan Stephon had nearly ended up destroying, and Maric and Shane would be somewhere far away, perhaps Pravoka or Melmond.

In the last few days Stephon had grown accustomed to his new surroundings. He'd become accustomed to waking up under a canopy of trees, and he'd grown used to his companions, and had nearly come to rely on magic as an aid. It would be difficult to get used to doing without it. _And I'll have to get used to killing mages again, won't I. _ Another thing Stephon had grown used to was the way Maric and Shane acted. Shane, though a little strange at times, had enough tolerable qualities to make him seem almost an endearing figure to Stephon, and since all black mages looked more or less the same, Stephon would have to imagine he would project Shane's personality and habits onto the mages he caused the deaths of. In effect, it would be like having to kill the young Half-Mage over and over again. The thought made Stephon's stomach lurch.

_Ye gods, going back is going to be difficult. _He realized at once, _Now that I've gotten to know a couple of mages I've learned that they're just as human as I am. How can I go about sentencing them to death now? I've seen magic, it's not as treacherous as people think, and even less so because of all the silly limits mages have. I've been naïve, we were wrong. We've been wrong for all this time, and I almost let it go. When I return,_ _I must set things right. For them if for nothing else._

"Maric! Look out!" a cry startled Stephon out of his musings at once, and he looked up to see an ever growing group of specters looming above the Red Mage like a black curtain.

"There's more of them?" Princess Sara looked mortified.

"Get behind me!" Stephon cried, drawing his sword, "Everyone get behind me! Now!"

"What are you doing, Stephon?" Maric cried, as Stephon shoved him out of the way, "You can't fight them with a sword, you'll get massacred like before!"

"That's why I want you and Half-Mage starting spells. I'll buy you some time by distracting them. This time, don't let Half-Mage screw up. Maric, I want you to cast a cure spell on my blade as soon as you can. That should do some damage on it's own." he turned to Celeste, "Take Lady Sara and get her to safety. Try to defend her as best you can. Use any potions you need to to keep them away."

The two mages wasted no time in launching into preparing their own spells. Sara's gaze lingered on Stephon for a second more. Stephon gave the girl a small smile, as if to assure her that he would be alright. In the next moment Celeste had led her away, and the flurry of ghosts descended upon Stephon in a frenzy, near blending in with the pouring rain. Stephon gripped his sword tightly, his knees for a second feeling weak. _No, I can't be afraid of them. That's what they want. They want me to panic so that my movements are jerky and slow. I can't let them have that satisfaction. After all, I've got magic on my side this time. Maric and Shane will come through for me, I'll be alright. _

All at once a cry escaped Stephon's lips as he dove head on into the swarm of specters. He swung his sword wildly, catching the creatures all along the middle. From his sword's swipe they would for a second dissipate into a fine mist, only to reform seconds later and swoop at him once more, completely unphased.

There couldn't have been more than ten ghosts. Stephon counted them, they didn't come in huge groups, but with the way they reformed, it seemed like there were hundreds. After Stephon successfully cut down one, another would appear and intercept him. A shadow like ball of dark energy would form in the thing's skeleton like hand, and it would be sent flying into the knight's chest, knocking his breath from him and stilling his limbs. What ever it was, it hurt like mad, and with every blow, Stephon felt his body becoming more and more numb.

"_Cure!"_ The first of the spells to finish was Maric's. The white tendrils of light wrapped around Stephon's blade making it glow with a white light. Stephon smirked, cutting into one on the spirits. With a cry the creature began to writhe and vanished in a puff of smoke. A cry of _"Thunder!" _ pierced the air a second later, and another ghost melted into the mist.

Now there were two down. Stephon felt the energy rapidly leaving his limbs, and for a second, he fell to his knees. His breath came in gasps now, he'd never felt this fatigued before in his life. _Maybe I'm not as well of as I thought I was. _ He thought for a second, only to one more find himself faced with another two ghosts. He sprung to his feet once more, putting his sword through one and then whipping it around to catch the other one. At last the cure spell's pleasant glow died, leaving Stephon without protection once more.

All at once the onslaught of blows ceased. Again, Stephon rose back to his feet stumbling slightly. He looked about. The ghosts had all but given up on him, and were now all hovering about Shane and Maric, beating at the two of them mercilessly. Maric had drawn his sword and was batting wildly at the creatures, his blade cutting air more than it cut them. Half-mage gave a sharp cry as a barrage of dark energy was hurled upon the boy's slight form. He'd collapsed after a few seconds of it.

"Half-Mage..." Stephon bit his lip. If one of his spellcasters was down, he was down to one left. If both of them were taken down, then they were done for, and now the spirits appeared to be targeting Maric and Shane alone. Sara and Celeste were near entirely unharmed. _Smart little devils. For beasts they know how to use their tactics. Then again, they seem to be human spirits. At one time these may have been men. _

"Shane!" Maric looked back, horror crossing his features as he found his friend laying among the reeds in the swamp water.

"Maric, you have to keep fighting!" Stephon cried at once, darting in front of him, "Here go... go help half mage, I'll do all I can to keep them away from you."

Maric took off at once, not even giving so much as a nod in response to Stephon's words. Stephon gritted his teeth as another shot of dark energy hit him in the chest. In a couple of minutes he feared he would pass out. It hurt to breathe. _After this, we break camp, I don't care what I said before. This is insane. _

"M-... Maric..!" Half-Mage's soft, strained voice came from behind Stephon. For a second, even he had to stop to look over to the young mage. Miraculously, he was alive and well. Celeste had rushed to his aid with potion, using some of it to ward off on coming ghosts. The boy looked weakened, but for the moment he was safe.

"He's fine, Maric, focus on them!" Celeste cried, fear in her eyes.

"We can't do this..." Maric shook his head, looking back at Stephon, "Call off the attack, we have to retreat."

"We can't retreat!" Stephon cried, looking at the boy, near astounded, "How can we? We're all but trapped."

"I can't cast enough spells on my own to get rid of all of them!" Maric cried, "What do you want me to do? We can't win like this."

"Listen, as far as I'm concerned this whole cap on how much magic you can use is a load of rubbish." Stephon growled, "We didn't come this far to be torn to shreds by dead things. We've killed Garland, no, I misspoke, you've killed Garland. I can't do a bloody thing to ward off these spirits, but you can. You mages act like preforming magic is something anyone can do. It isn't, I can't and I'm glad most of the people I know can't. The power to use something like magic is amazing, it's devastating, and it's just about the most powerful thing I've ever seen. It can preform miracles, and at the same time, it can create roaring destruction, and right now, either of those things are just what we need." Another ball of black energy hit Stephon, bowling him over, but he shook off the blow, ignoring the numbness in his limbs, " Listen, you might not think magic is such a great power, but I'm telling you it is. If it could bring me back to life, then it can send these miserable spirits back to where they belong. There has to be a spell, some kind of spell."

Maric stopped dead in his tracks for a second. For a moment he looked stunned, his breath coming hard in the pouring rain. For a second, Stephon had to wonder if he had gotten gored from behind while he was speaking.

"Maric are you..." Celeste's voice came soft, but at last the Red mage spoke, cutting her off.

"There is a spell."

He looked around to Celeste and Stephon once more, as if he expected that stunning revelation to quiet the spirits on it's own. Unfortunately it did not. Stephon waited impatiently for the boy to continue, as he continued to cut the unsuspecting specters in two, keeping them away from the red mage.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Stephon cried, "Don't just stand there!"

The boy shook his head, smiling ruefully, almost laughing "I can't cast it..." His words were soft, near inaudible. Stephon's eyes went wide.

"What do you mean you can't cast it?" Stephon demanded, "You know it, don't you?"

"I know of it." Maric said at once, looking up. His eyes were suddenly hard and serious, " And I know that it's not a spell I'd be able to cast. White magic, it's white magic in it's purest of forms, and can only be used by mages of the purest of hearts. I don't think I have to go into why I shouldn't be able to cast it. And even if I could, I don't know the entire spell. I've tried it before but... ye gods I never thought there would be a time when I actually needed to use it. It seemed so useless at the time..." He cut down another spirit near idly, laughing at himself.

"You know the incantation?" Stephon demanded.

Maric nodded, "But it's not as simple as knowing it. Even if I could prepare it, I couldn't... it would require more mana than normal for me to... I might not be able to..."

"It'd do us more good than your idle chatter." Stephon cried, intercepting another basll of shadow with his sword. Another one hit him in the shoulder, around where he'd been wounded, and for a second he was stunned. He fell to the ground with a pained cry. "Hurry up!"

At once the boy started into an incantation. This one was hesitant, and his words didn't flow as naturally as they did with other spells. Every so often he would hesitate, and then, start over. _Oh ye gods, he'll take forever. _

All at one the spirits seemed to take notice of Maric's now helpless situation. All at once all ten pairs of yellow eyes turned on him, and they left Stephon, all not circling about the red mage menacingly.

_He can't see them. _Stephon realized with a start, _He has to concentrate to pull off the spell, they'll be able to hit him before he can even think to defend himself. He'll be killed before he can even come close to finishing._

At once Stephon shot forward, his sword brandished. His blade caught about three of the specters down, and he managed to intercept one of the dark missiles with an outstretched arm. The other hit Maric square in the chest, and he was knocked to his knees. A look of despair crossed the boy's face, and he looked up to Stephon helplessly. Wordlessly he shook his head, his breath coming hard.

_Ye gods, he can't do it, can he? _ Stephon felt the life draining from his limbs. Helplessly he looked over to Shane, who still lay in Celeste's arms as the girl work desperately to revive the young spellcaster. Her attempts were in vain, the boy was entirely unconscious. Without Phoenix Down, he might be down for the next day or so.

All at once the thief girl looked up, her eyes wide, "Stephon behind you!"

Stephon turned , crying out as he came face to face with a large looming spirit, it's yellow eyes piercing into his. In the next moment, it withered away, dissolving into a fine mist, and behind it, Princess Sara stood with an empty potion bottle clutched in her shaking hands. Her face was pale with fright, but there was a smile on her lips, as if she was rather pleased with herself. _Even Lady Sara is fighting with us. I have to do whatever I can to help too. Everything. We didn't come this far to fail now, and by the gods, I'll make sure we make it back to Corneria alive. _

All at once he heard another outcry. Behind him, he found that Maric had collapsed to his hands and knees, his eyes wide, and fixed upon the ground. For a good few moments he remained motionless. Celeste had come up behind the boy, relieving him of two of the ghosts that now plagued him with a few swipes of her knife. Miraculously, one of them disappeared. It was then that Stephon noticed the girl dipping her blade into a bottle of potion. The three remaining ghosts turned their attention to her now. One ball of energy knocked her from her feet. Then another, and another once more. Within seconds she'd fallen, the potion bottle knocked from her hands, spilling it's precious contents into the swamp water.

"Get up, Mage, you can't give up now!" Stephon cried.

The group of spirits continued to circle him. They knew he was their spellcaster, the only one of them that they had to fear, or at least, the one they had to fear the most. One by one each of them began to form another ball of shadow, each one aiming to strike at the boy at once. If that kind of blow didn't kill him, Stephon didn't know what would.

"Maric! Get out of there!"

"I-... I-..." the boy's voice was strained, and frightened, "I c-.. can't... move!"

Stephon felt a chill. _That last blow must've been enough to paralyze his nerves. _ He realized with a start. _They aren't targeting him because he's a mage. They're targeting him because he can't defend himself. _Stephon gritted his teeth, _The bloody cowards. They're taking advantage of his postion. That's why they targeted Half- Mage, and Celeste! _ A cry irrupted from Stephon's lips as he charged into the circle, knocking Maric out of the way. All at once, one million bursts of cold agony buffeted Stephon. He felt his knees buckle, and at once he was borne to the ground, unable to move. The cold rain water splashed upon his face, but he couldn't move to wipe it away, in fact, he could barely feel it. He felt like he was drifting in a dream, light, and numb.

"Ste-.. Stephon..." Maric had risen to his knees, looking at him with a horror struck gaze, "Stephon! Can you hear me Stephon? Get up!"

_Go, boy you're waisting time! _ Stephon was sure that's how he would have replied if he could speak, but for the moment, his lips wouldn't obey him. He could see darkness beginning to cave in around him. _No, not this time. I won't succumb to this, not now. _ He drew a quivering breath, focusing on the forever falling rain, willing himself to stay conscious.

"Oh ye gods! Master Carris!" Lady Sara had knelt down beside him, shaking him, "What have they done? What have they done to him?"

"He's alive." Maric drew away suddenly, his eyes narrowing at the spirits, dancing in the wind, "He'll be alright. I'll make sure of it."

"Maric, what are you doing?" Celeste cried. The girl had righted herself now. She was alive, but weakened considerably "Be careful, you're still hurt."

The red mage ignored her, righting himself shakily. At once he started into a spell incantation, this time with confidence in his words.

The darkness had begun to cave in around him once more, but now he found that he could prompt a movement in his fingertips. With a bit of a struggle he managed to blink a few times, looking up to Maric who was now locked in a chant. Two of the spirits lunged for him now. Celeste gave a cry, lunging for one, the swipe of her knife causing the ghost to pause, disappearing for a second only to reform a second later. The second hit Maric square in the chest. For a second the mage was knocked from his feet, but he never stopped his chant. Two more missiles hit Celeste in the back, and she was knocked to the ground once more.

"Maric!"

"_Dia!"_

All at once the clouds in the sky parted. A beam of blinding light shot from the heavens, white hot and blinding. Stephon found he had to look away, he couldn't keep his eyes on the blinding light. At last the light died. The ghosts were gone, as was the rain, and Maric collapsed to the ground, and Stephon's vision finally tunneled out.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"So, you mean to say you've all been living in the streets?"

"Honestly, it's not as bad as you're making it out to be. We don't have a whole lot, but at least we're all together, and to tell the truth, we don't do all that badly."

"I've never heard of anything like that."

"What? A band of thieves?"

"Never one so big, or entirely comprised of women."

"Corneria isn't exactly a fairytale land. There are a lot of us. It didn't do any of us any good when we were quarreling among ourselves, and we bring in twice as much gil as we did when we were all on our own. It works well this way."

"Have you ever thought to remarry?"

"Nah. Marriage tied me down too much last time. Besides, I'm barren."

"Oh come off it, you were fourteen years old."

"That doesn't make a difference."

Stephon gave a light groan as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. It was dark now, and the moon was high over head. _How long have I been out this time? _He wondered vaguely.

He put a hand to his head, sitting up. It hurt to move, but a pounding headache wouldn't allow him to stay dormant anymore. He looked around blearily, looking over to Celeste and Lady Sara who were currently sitting around a large fire.

"Stephon!" Celeste looked a bit startled to see the knight conscious once more, "Thank the gods you're alright. We got worried when you collapsed like that."

"I told you I would be fine, Celeste." Stephon said, crossing his arms, "Though I... do admit I underestimated those spirits that we fought. What happened anyway?"

"Well, Maric managed to cast that spell." Celeste explained, "It took out all but one on the ghosts, and I managed to take that one out with a potion. The problem is, we're out of potion now. We'll just have to be careful tomorrow."

"Well that's good." Stephon noted, "How's Half-Mage doing?"

"He's sleeping right now, I think." Celeste said, "He and Maric took a hard beating, you shouldn't try to wake him."

_Maric.. _ Stephon bit his lip, _Maric collapsed after he cast that spell. He still hasn't woken up? _

He looked over to where the red mage lay. His face was white as a sheet and he lay in a fitful looking sleep, a pained expression on his face. To Stephon's surprise, his forehead was dotted with sweat. _Ye gods, what did that spell do to him? _

"Don't worry, Sir Carris, Maric's alright." Shane's small voice startled Stephon as he realized the boy was in fact very much awake and sitting right next to him, "He used too much mana with that last spell and went into a very mild bout of mana depletion. He'll be fine with a bit of rest."

Stephon looked from Half-Mage to Maric once more. The boy didn't look alright, he looked as if he'd caught his death in the plague. In fact, he looked quite a lot the way Talon had the time he was bedridden with a fever for nearly a week. Their father had been in anguish, and as far as Stephon could tell, he'd nearly died. It was considered a blessing when after 7 frightful days, Talon's fever broke and he finally came to his senses, dazed, but miraculously alive.

"Are you sure?" Stephon frowned.

"Absolutely." Shane nodded confidently.

For the first time Shane really did seem confident in his knowledge. As strange as it seemed, Stephon had to believe him, since under any other circumstances, Shane would be in hysterics over his fallen friend. _I suppose just because he doesn't do very much magic doesn't mean he doesn't know a lot about it. He knew about white magic vanquishing dark magic, so I'd imagine he knows what's wrong with Maric as well. _

Stephon nodded for the moment, pacified, "And Lady Sara is unharmed." He looked to the young woman expectantly. The girl averted her gaze uncomfortably.

"Don't worry." Celeste gave the knight an apologetic look, "She just needs time to get used to you is all."

Stephon nodded, though somehow, he found it hard to believe the thief girl's words. _I've ruined my chances with her, absolutely ruined them. _He thought sighing, _And how can I expect her to agree to marry me now? I'll be a burden to her, a bane even. I don't want to be that to her. _

"I'll go talk to her." Celeste said at once, noting Stephon's worried expression.

"No." Stephon said at once. The thief looked up at Stephon quizzically, "I'll go talk to her instead."

Celeste smiled, "I think she'd appreciate that."

Stephon nodded. He righted himself on shaky legs. It was only now that he noticed that they were no longer in the swamps. In fact, they'd reached the Cornerian forest. Stephon near smiled _They came through after all._

"Ah, Lady Sara," Stephon began hesitantly as he approached the princess, "Could I maybe speak to you for a second."

"Oh, Master Carris you know I.."

"Please, just allow me to talk to you. I promise I won't ask for any more."

The girl looked up to Stephon now, her wide blue eyes hesitant, but soft. She nodded, standing, "Actually I... there's something I've been meaning to say to you, I..."

"No please," He took the girl's hands in his, "Listen, I know I haven't been much of a leader, and I know I have a terrible temper, eventually I'm going to fix that, but the point still stands..."

"Master Carris, I.."

"Sara..." Stephon's words were soft now, and for a second, he winced. He'd never called the girl only by her first name before, and it felt strange on his lips, but even so, she didn't seem to take offense. In fact, she blushed a bit, " You know I care for you a lot, and... and I know you don't care much for me at all, and I'd never want you to be unhappy so... if... if you'd like for me to find you another man to wed you I can..."

"To wed? You knew about that?" Lady Sara's eyes went wide all at once.

"Why, Lady Sara of course I knew!" Stephon cried, "You didn't think I knew we were to be wed?"

"Well, I hadn't thought... after Garland and I ran off together..." Sara's voice went soft.

Sara's words hit Stephon like a knife. He gaped at the girl, "Y-.. You and...."

"Garland..." Sara nodded, "I... I'm so sorry Master Carris, I didn't know... I hadn't thought that... oh he seduced me with his wretched lies, and I was so nervous and.. I didn't want to be married! He made it seem like he loved me, but oh the way he started talking, he was a mad man Stephon, a mad man. I didn't know what to do! He... he..."

The girl broke down into sobs as she fell to her knees. Stephon took a step back, surprised. He'd never known a girl of royalty to show her emotions so clearly. A pang hit him, _She is just a girl, after all. No older than Celeste it seems. _

"Don't cry." Stephon whispered, embracing the girl softly, "I forgive you."

"How can you forgive me?" the girl asked wildly, looking up. Tears streaked her fair face, now reddened from crying, " I've put you all in danger for my petty fancies, I almost cost the kingdom everything. I've been selfish and terrible and wretched and... and..."

The girl threw her arms around Stephon's neck, burying her head in his chain link armor. For a second, there was silence, save for Sara's soft sobs. Stephon didn't dare speak. He didn't need to now, words wouldn't do him any good.

"Stephon, I'm sorry for all this, I mean, how I've treated you up until now." the girl whispered after a few moments, "I... I couldn't bring myself to admit that I was wrong. I wanted to hate you, I wanted to still believe that you were just the other part of an unwanted arranged marriage and after you woke up, I was sure that I did but... the other warriors just had such confidence in you and I... I realized that I... I do want to marry you Stephon. I do..."

Stephon was sure he felt his heart soaring. He felt like laughing, jumping for joy. For once in his life things were going right. She favored him. She, this wonderful, beautiful gem of a woman, on top of being on of the most powerful people in Corneria, favored him and him alone, over Talon and any other suitors that might be chosen for her, and this was the woman he would spend his life with. This lithe gem that he now held in his arms. He closed his eyes, embracing her warmly as if to wrap his spirit around hers and shelter her.

"Do not worry, my queen." he whispered, stroking her silked hair with the tips of his fingers, "I will do all I can to protect you, and hold you up like a pedestal, to make you all that you should be. I will always be with you. Always."

The knight and his queen fell asleep like that, arm in arm in a tender embrace. And the thief girl who sat some ways behind them couldn't help smiling and hoping that for them, that pure and naïve moment could last for eternity.

_**Ugh mushy scenes. I never really have gone for love scenes much, and don't care for romance, so if that one sucked, don't worry, there isn't very much of it. Anyway, I know I broke the rules a little since Red Mages can't use Dia in the games, but that's why he got so drained from using the spell. Also, that would mean that Maric has 4 spells, which is also against the rules (His spell list SHOULD be Sleep, Fire, and Cure) but eh, it's fanfiction, and I've already broken enough FFI rules already.. like you remember the part when your team members try to kill each other in FFI? Neither did I! Ah well, it probably happened in my brain at one time or another.**_

_**For now, keep reading, and if you like, press the shiny green button at the bottom of this screen, and make Surfingpichu a happy little freak. n.n**_

_**Until next time, Surfingpichu over and out!**_


	15. Chapter 14: Warm Welcomes

_**Hi there! Surfingpichu here again with yet another chapter up! Aren't I great? Yeah yeah, I know I know, you can thank me later. (Dodges a few flying tomatoes.)**_

_**Well, y'know... I can dream right?**_

_**Well, anyway, I'd like to give a whooole bunch of thanks to AlguLOD, Emperor Zoron, Toxo, Antoine, and Zippy Zipper for reviewing. Woo! Whole lot of reviews this time, thanks so much guys! =3 Did I mention you guys are awesome for reviewing! (and you all get cookies)**_

_**Also, lots of people pointed out that in my last chapter I almost constantly spelled the word "wasting" as "waisting". Well, I'm going to confess here right now that my spelling is pretty bad most of the time. n_n That's why I use a spell checker, but this time the spell checker betrayed me terribly. (Glares at Spell Checker) But I would like to thank you guys for pointing that out. I'm glad I do have people watching out for these kinds of things. =)**_

_**Just as a warning, this coming chapter, and the chapter after it are a bit more gory than most of the chapters have been thus far. Though I highly doubt anyone is going to really get that upset over a little gore in a fanfic, I thought it would be a good idea just to put in a fair warning that , specifically in this chapter and the next coming chapter, as they say, there will be blood.**_

_**With that said, on with the fic!**_

_**Chapter 14: Warm Welcomes and Tearful Partings**_

Celeste couldn't help giving a sigh as she gazed up at the moon that night. Beside her Stephon, Maric, and Shane were sleeping, all utterly exhausted, and miraculously alive and well. She and Lady Sara had made surprisingly good time dragging the two wounded warriors through the bog. Shane had eventually recovered enough to walk on his own, and though they were tired, they hadn't stopped until they reached the forest. Now it was only just a day's walk until they were home. The grand steeples of Castle Corneria loomed high above them, like giant beacons, calling them home. Celeste sighed, when morning broke, their quest was officially over.

It felt almost surreal to Celeste, the fact that in a few short hours she would never see any of the other Light Warriors again. As it turned out, Sara was willing to reward the Warriors herself with a monetary compensation for their efforts. Celeste had figured she would board a boat immediately and head for Melmond, while Shane and Maric had promptly decided on traveling to Crescent Lake. The distance amazed her. Within three days Maric and Shane would be half way across Gaia, at the other end of the world.

All at once an incredibly lonely feeling crept up into Celeste's chest. A feeling of isolation that she hadn't felt for a long time crept up in her as she realized that she was almost beginning to miss the other warriors of light already. Watching them as they slept, she realized that she was looking at ghosts. In a day's time they would have parted ways.

_No, I won't think about that right now. _Celeste instructed herself, _We're all alive and well, that's all that matters right now. After all, there's still much to be done. I wonder how Janice is doing right now. I wonder if she even realizes I've gone. _She smiled ruefully, _She wouldn't care, she's probably glad I've gone after what I did. What I caused. Now I'm out adventuring with one of the men who killed our teammates, some friend I was. Some thief... _

She only realized now that she was crying. Tears had welled up in her eyes, not because she missed her thief clan, but because she was going to miss the Light Warriors, her teammates now, her friends dare she say it.

"Miss Celeste, is something the matter?"

Lady Sara's form came out of the darkness after a few seconds, and Celeste hastily wiped away her tears.

"N- nothing's the matter Lady Sara." Celeste said hastily, "What about you, why are you up at this time of night?"

"I couldn't sleep. There are so many strange sounds in the forest. It's unnerving. I almost thought I heard people talking." Sara's eyes were fearful. Celeste couldn't help laughing a bit.

"Well, Half-Mage talks in his sleep every so often, it's nothing big." Celeste said smirking, "Now that he knows some magic, Maric says that's not such a good thing. Sometimes mages cast spells in their sleep, he says. I don't buy it, but he _is_ a mage. I'd imagine he knows."

"I don't like how you call him 'Half-Mage' all the time." Lady Sara said softly, "He's a rather good mage I think."

"Eh, I don't think he minds." Celeste said smirking, "I don't think so anyway. To tell the truth, I've never really spoken to him. Not one on one anyway. That's just from before, anyway, when he couldn't cast spells. The name stuck, what can I say?"

"Well even so, he knows a lot about magic." Sara said softly, "More than Maric does, I'd imagine."

"Most people do. Knowing more than Maric isn't such a great feat." Celeste snorted.

"Even so, I wonder where he gets it all from." Sara said softly.

"Magic academy, probably, lots of mages come from there." Celeste noted, "If they didn't teach him how to cast, he must've learned _something_ right?"

"I guess so."

"So there you go." Celeste smiled.

Sara cracked a small smile of her own, but in her eyes something was sad and uncertain.

"It's been nice traveling with you all, you know." Lady Sara said, looking to Celeste, "I've never been so far from the castle, or seen so much before. It's been dangerous and hard, but even so, I've actually enjoyed it for all it was worth."

Celeste smiled, "Well, I'd have to admit, I enjoyed myself a lot more than I should have." she admitted, " I'll admit I wasn't here for the right reasons, but when it comes down to it I'm... I'm glad I got to meet everyone here."

"As am I." Lady Sara said softly, " I never really had any friends outside the castle and I... I really wish our situations weren't so different. I'd like to believe we, you and I that is, would grow to be close."

"Maybe one day we'll meet up again, I don't know." Celeste noted, "Maybe when I decide to settle down. I'm not sure when that will be, but, when it happens, maybe then we can meet up again. Maybe then I won't look like such an urchin."

"Miss Celeste, I wouldn't care if you came to the castle dripping with mud, I'd have you in just like that if it meant some company." She nodded, though thinking on it for a second she ammended "Well, maybe I'd order you to have a hot bath first, but, even so."

Celeste giggled slightly, "And you and Stephon are really going to be an item."

"Well yes. I do like him, I think he'd make a fine king."

"Do you love him?"

"Love?" the princess hesitated at the word, "Well, I.. I don't know. I don't think I've known him long enough to love him yet but... he does strike me as a nobler man than any of the other men I've met thus far. He's very much unlike the other Carrises, much unlike his brother and father, I think he takes from his mother's side. I'm very glad he does, to imagine being wed to someone like Talon, I shutter to think."

"They're a pair, Talon and Stephon, aren't they?" Celeste noted bitterly.

"Not really." Sara replied. She frowned, thinking back, " They were fighting for a while. There used to be a lot of tension between them. It's cleared up a bit of late, but still, they used to have terrible fights, I've heard. Father thought the two of them would tear their estate in half."

"Really?" That didn't seem right. Talon and Stephon seemed like your usual team of brothers before the quest. Celeste had had trouble telling them apart in the dark. She'd only seen them fight once, and that was briefly, but to tear their own estate in half between them. _Is she talking about the same Talon?_ Celeste wondered.

"Lady Sara," Celeste addressed her companion as she stood. All at once the crushing loneliness had set in upon her. It was completely out of nowhere, she couldn't have anticipated the feeling, but all at once she felt she needed to get away, "Do you think you could watch the camp for a while? I'd like to take a quick walk to clear my mind. If I'm not back before midnight, wake Stephon, he'll take second shift so you can sleep."

Lady Sara nodded, and Celeste walked off into the thick forest. _What am I supposed to do after this? _ She wondered, _Sara has Stephon, Maric and Shane have each other, I'm alone, the odd one out. What do I do?_

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Shane wasn't sure how long he'd been awake. Friendly voices had long stopped for the night, and it had been quite a while since Celeste had left Lady Sara in the brush. In a way, he missed hearing the soft whispered voices, he much preferred voices to silence, especially in the middle of the night.

It had been quite a while since Shane had been able to rest easy. Ever since Maric had found him in the forest, he'd had trouble sleeping. It didn't bother him, after a while he'd grown accustomed to being tired, but it didn't make the long, restless nights any easier to stomach. Unlike Lady Sara, he couldn't simply get up and talk to who ever was keeping guard at the time. He couldn't talk about what was on his mind, simply because it wasn't a proper thing to speak about, and despite his affinity to the other warriors, he had to remind him that all of them were indeed strangers to him, including Maric. True they were strangers that he'd bonded with through trauma and hardship, but still they were still strangers none the less.

Of course, none of them knew that he was awake. He wouldn't have that, it might unnerve the other warriors. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't sleep ever. He was sure that most nights he managed an hour or two, he was fine as far as he was concerned. Just fine.

_We're getting close to Corneria now. _He thought idly, _I'd imagine we'll be there soon. Within the next day. Maric said he and Rachen would come with me to Crescent Lake. That would be nice, almost like having a family again._

Crescent Lake was Shane's childhood home, the town he'd grown up in. There had been very few bad times for him in Crescent Lake, and the good memories that he'd had growing up in the small lakeside town were enough to make him forget the bad. _Strange that growing up in a town practically surrounded by water, I never learned how to swim. _

He knew why. At a very young age, much farther back than he could remember, he'd given his father quite a scare when he fell into the lake and nearly drowned. From then on his father had refused to let him anywhere near the water, and he had never thought to disobey him, so the matter never came up. Still, it occurred to him as strange when he thought back on it.

Then again a lot of things were strange during his childhood. For one thing, he didn't have a mother like most children did. His father said that was because she died, but Shane couldn't remember her, so he never really thought about it very much. After all, his father seemed to act both parts very well, though after his father died, he found himself left with no-one. He didn't know of any relations of his, and for a while he'd been lost. Of course he was found eventually, not by a person, but a group of people. They called themselves the Brotherhood of Black Arts. They were a difficult group to work with, but at the same time, they did provide protection and in a sense, a home. That was exactly what he'd needed then, it was a shame that he found they wouldn't always need him.

_I... I wonder if they're still looking for me. _He wondered, _They probably think I'm dead by now, since they haven't found me yet. They've probably given up the search by now, I'd have to imagine they... _

All at once a rustle in the bushed jolted the boy from his thoughts. He sat up straight, for a second thinking to alert Stephon or Maric to the fact that he'd heard something, but at once he heard something else, a pair of voices, speaking in hushed whispers.

"H-.. hey, did you hear something?" One of the voices was incredibly familiar.

"Hear what?" In fact both voices sounded incredibly familiar

"I thought I heard something move."

Shane sat perfectly still. Whoever was out there might just pass them by if they didn't think there was a threat. There was a sigh.

"Look, I didn't hear anything, you're probably imagining things." Uncannily familiar.

"Are you sure they're asleep?"

"Every one of them, last time I checked."

"You're positive?"

"Yes, and if you don't cut your whimpering right now, you'll wake up the whole lot of them. A sleep spell only holds for so long you know."

_Sleep spell. _Shane's eyes went wide, _I do know those voices. Aye and Sian, it has to be them, there's no mistaking it, and if they're here the Brotherhood isn't far behind. Oh ye gods._

"Where did he go?" The voice Shane recognized as Sian's growled. Shane whimpered. Aye and Sian were twin brothers, identical twins. Aye was one of the few white mages in the Brotherhood, and Sian was a black mage, one of the most skilled in the Brotherhood. Just as they were opposite in their magic, Aye and Sian were opposite in their temperaments as well. While Aye was generally very soft spoken, careful, and shy, Sian was aggressive, outgoing, and confident. Needless to say it wasn't Aye that Shane worried about, in fact, he and Aye had become rather good friends before he'd gotten into trouble. In fact, he'd tried to convince Aye to join him the first time he'd tried to quit the Brotherhood. In the end, it never quite came to pass.

"Are you sure it's him?"

"How many other runaway mages are there out there?" Sian's voice was drawing closer now, "Of course it's him! Who else could it be?"

"Sir Carris." Shane whispered nervously to the sleeping knight, trying to wake him from his deep sleep. He didn't even react to Shane's call, Stephon was out cold, probably held in an enchanted sleep from the sleep spell. Shane bit his lip.

_It's no good. Even if I do get one of them to wake up now, it'll be too late, they'll have seen me. I have to fight them. _ Instinctively, his hand flew to his belt, _Where's my knife? _At once he remembered. He had no knife, that was lost long ago, lying on the floor in Maric's house. Even so, he'd lost the dexterity he once had in his left hand. Even if he had a weapon, his skill in fighting would be compromised. _ Then I'll have to fight them with magic._

Under his breath he started a chant, just loud enough that he could hear his own words, near inaudible to anyone else. Slowly he crept back into the trees, melting into the bushes. Sian had entered the clearing now, his golden eyes sharp and piercing. He clutched his twin daggers tightly, looking around with an intense blood lust burning in his gaze.

"Where in the five hells is he?" Sian spat, looking around, "I saw him here a minute ago, where is he?"

"Why are you asking me?" Aye's voice was soft and sensitive, "Maybe you're imagining things. Maybe you didn't see him."

"I swear I saw him!" Sian cried, catching his brother by his curly locks of golden hair and pulling him close, "Listen Aye, I know you don't want to hurt your little playmate, but even I'm starting to get tired of your constant whining. Clayton is starting to become obsessive over this little issue with Tellerman, and you know that if we don't bring that boy's head to him soon, he'll burn down Corneria looking for him. This little game with that kid has to end, and it has to end now, or so help me."

"I don't see what you all have against him." Aye said, breaking free of his brother's grip, "All we have to do is bring him back, right? We need to make sure he doesn't let anyone know about the Brotherhood, right?"

"It's not just that, Aye." Sian growled, "It's never just that, never just as it seems. If the kid was going to squeal on the Brotherhood, then he'd have done that long ago, the damage has been done in that aspect. No, Clayton has other reasons for wanting that kid dead, he has to. Why else would he be so adamant on finding the kid. I don't know what his reasons are. Quite frankly I don't care what his reasons are, all I know is, we have to find Shane Tellerman, and kill him dead, and I've found him. I know I..."

"_Thunder!" _

A sharp crack followed by a strangled cry cut Sian off in mid sentence. The black mage collapsed to the ground immediately, and Aye looked up, his blue eyes clouding with fear as he finally spotted Shane from the shadows.

"Shane.." the boy whispered, his face growing pale, "Shane, run! Sian is..."

A feral cry cut Aye off as his brother rose to his feet, a spell on his lips. Shane paled, turning at once to run. Not only was Sian a strong spellcaster, he was also quick with his words. He was said to have been able to fire three Firaga spells off within a minute. Shane paled _What have I done? _

"_Teleport!"_ The next thing Shane knew Sian was behind him. He was grabbed from behind and at once pulled to the ground. On top of his magical advantages, Sian was much larger, and as a result, much heavier than Shane was. In a second he was pinned down, unable to struggle out of the black mage's grasp.

"Maric! Help!" Shane cried out, though he knew his cries were in vain. He could see his comrades still fast asleep in the clearing. If a thunder spell hadn't woken them, his cries wouldn't either, "Celeste! Sir Carris! Lady Sara! Anyone Please! He-..!"

A hand closed over his mouth, at once silencing his cries.

"Ye gods above, will you shut up?" Sian cried, "Aye get over here, I need help!"

"Y-yes Sian?" Aye's figure appeared from the brush beyond at once. He clutched one of Sian's daggers in his hand. Immediately, Shane knew what Aye was going to do, what he had to do.

"Don't 'Yes Sian' me." Sian snapped, "What are you waiting for? I can't hold onto him forever."

"Sian, don't you think we could just..." Aye began.

"No!" Sian cried, "No we can't. I'm going to tell you what we do now. We slit his throat, make sure he's _dead_ this time, and then we plant the dagger in the girl's hands, the one who was keeping watch. They'll think she killed him in the middle of the night, no-one will ever suspect mages. Then the Brotherhood is safe, and we've got one less annoying mage to deal with."

_No! _Shane's eyes went wide, _No, Celeste. Celeste was never quite comfortable with magic, if Maric and Stephon thought she'd killed me... no they can't!_ He gave a small unintelligible grunt, straining to make himself heard to the other warriors, any of them. He struggled and writhed against Sian's grip, but the mage was strong, and he couldn't break free.

"Come on Aye, hurry up!" Sian cried. He was beginning to weaken, but his grip was still strong, and Shane felt his own strength waining as well.

Desperately he looked up to Aye. The white mage looked uncertain, his eyes clouded with doubt as he held Sian's dagger. _Come on, Aye, you don't want to do this. _Shane willed him silently, _Help me, please, attack Sian instead. He's just as helpless, please, you don't have to do this. You don't have to! _

All at once Aye knelt down, his eyes going soft, near expressionless. He looked Shane in the eyes, looking sad, and distant.

"You know I have to, Shane." Aye's words were soft, and apologetic, "Please understand, I don't want to hurt you, but you're a traitor now. It's dangerous to let you live. You understand that it's for the best, for the Brotherhood, right?"

_No, no Aye. _ Shane's eyes went wide with fear. He shook his head, struggling to free himself from Sian's grip. _Aye please, don't do this! I'm your friend, Aye, don't listen to him. Kill him instead, don't listen to him, please! Maric! Sir Carris! Celeste! Someone help me!_

"Shane don't look at me like that." there was a hurt look in Aye's eyes, "Please, this is already hard enough for me to do.. I..."

"Aye get on with it!" Sian's voice was a bit strained now, "I could have just nuked the kid with a Firaga spell by now."

Flustered, Aye looked back to Shane with a sad smile, "Sorry Shane."

_Aye please! _The sting of cold metal against Shane's neck made his entire body shutter. He turned his head to struggle away, but Sian held his head steady, forcing him to look forward. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the cut, and a muffled, though terrified squeal escaping his sealed lips. _I don't want to die. Please I don't want to die! I'll go back to the Brotherhood, I haven't told a soul, I'll abandon the Warriors of Light, they don't need me any more. I'll never speak to Maric or Celeste or Sir Carris again if you like. I could kill them all right now, just don't kill me. Please don't..._

All at once a pained cry from Aye drew all eyes to the white mage. Shane's eyes shot open to catch a suddenly pale faced, stricken looking Aye collapsing heavily to the ground. His eyes wide with pain. Behind his fallen body, Celeste's figure stood, her teeth gritted as she glared at the two mages before her.

"Unhand him!" the girl cried, pointing a bloodied knife at Sian. "Now!"

"Aye!" Sian cried, his eyes genuinely fearful as he looked upon his brother. He wasn't dead, or near death, just in a substantial amount of pain, chanting a cura spell in between pained breaths. "Ye gods... d-. damn it all."

He shoved Shane to the ground, unhanding him at once. Immediately Shane righted himself, making to bolt over to Celeste, when a sharp dagger's point caught him in the back and tore a large gash across it. Again he collapsed to the ground, giving a pained cry of his own. For a second a white light flashed before his eyes, and in the next he was on the ground, his wound smarting with white hot pain.

"Shane!" Celeste cried, "Who are you? Who in the five hells are you and what do you want?"

"I could ask you the same question." Sian spat, "What do you think you're doing?"

"You were trying to stick your knife into Shane! What did you think you were doing?" Celeste cried, "Who are you and where do you come from?"

"The Brotherhood doesn't take kindly to wenches who help traitors, miss." Sian growled, "I suggest you put your little toy down, it's not going to help you much."

"Are you trying to threaten me?"

At once Celeste poised herself to pounce at Sian, her thin, but muscular body contracting like a spring.

"Celeste! D-don't!" Shane could only manage to choke out, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Sian stepped back quickly, parrying the thief girl's knife with his dagger. He attacked back with a blow of his own, but Celeste slipped past his attack deftly, springing out with an attack of her own. Sian was very gifted with his daggers, but he was no match for the thief girl who entirely outmatched him as far as speed and precision were concerned. Unfortunately, Shane knew Sian wasn't relying on stealth to defeat the thief girl.

"_Blizzara!" _A flurry of ice shot from Sian's hands, buffeting Celeste hard. The girl was knocked from her feet, the air squeezed from her lungs.

"What..." She gasped, looking up at Sian, dazed, "What k-.. kind of magic is..."

"That little card trick was barely even real magic." Sian sneered, "Then again, with the company you keep, it's no small wonder you're not used to anything beyond a spark and a prayer."

"_Cura." _Aye's spell had finished, and he was on his feet once more. He looked from Celeste to Sian helplessly.

"Here Aye." Sian threw his dagger over to his brother, "I'm not going to need this. You finish off Tellerman."

"No you don't!" Celeste cried, jumping back to her feet at once. She made a blind stab for Sian, but the black mage sidestepped her in a flurry of cloaks.

"_Fira!" _A geyser of flame shot out of the ground beneath Celeste, and a pained outcry accented the attack. Shane watched in horror as Celeste collapsed a second time, this time unmoving.

"Stupid wench." Sian snorted, "now you understand why the brotherhood isn't to be reckoned with."

Celeste gave a pained groan. Her entire body was covered in blistering burns, and she held her arms around her head, shaking with what seemed like sobs.

"What is that all you have in you? Where's the fight from before?" Sian laughed, giving the girl a sharp kick, "Nothing left eh? Maybe I haven't stirred you up enough."

He started another spell, his eyes shining with malice. Celeste looked up blearily now, her eyes wide with sheer terror. Shane had seen that look in her eyes before. The first day they had met in those Cornerian streets was the only other time he had seen her so afraid. Now he knew why she'd been so scared of him.

_I was like that once. _He realized, _There was a point when I was no better than him. I've changed now, ye gods, I know I've changed! _He glared at Sian now, suddenly full of hatred, _Now I know who deserves to die. It was us all along!_

A chant for a thunder spell was on Shane's lips at once.

"_Thundara!"_ Another cry from Celeste shot through Shane like a bullet, but he didn't let it phase him. He couldn't let that deter him from his spell. A hand suddenly caught him from behind, pulling him up. Shane's eyes shot open at once, and he found a knife hovering inches away from his face. He stumbled back with a cry, throwing back his assailant.

Aye's eyes were wide with terror, "You know I can't let you get away this time." he said, his voice a bit stronger now, "You know what I have to do, Shane, you know I can't hide you anymore."

"You don't have to!" Shane cried, "Help us, Aye! You don't have to be like them. I know you're not like them!"

"Shane please!"

"_Sleep!" _Without thinking he flew through his old spell , and sent his once friend staggering to the ground. The boy whithered slightly, dropping Sian's dagger as he drifted into a fitful slumber.

"I'm sorry, Aye." Shane whispered, grabbing the boy's dagger from his now limp hand.

"_Thundara!" _ Once more Sian sent the crashing force of lightning into Celeste's body, prompting a strangled cry. _He'll kill her if this continues. _ Shane realized, biting his lip.

He gripped Sian's knife tightly. _This has to end. This has to end now. _ With a cry he ran forward, plunging the dagger hard into Sian's back. The mage reared, giving a high, pained cry, and he spun around, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You..." Sian growled, " I've had just about enough of you. I'm sorry, I almost forgot why I was here, to get rid of an annoying, half-wit mage."

He pushed Shane to the ground, kicking him once for good measure before launching into another spell. Shane barely had time to right himself before the trigger was called _"Thundara!" _and he was sent to the ground once more.

Pain arced through the boy's limbs, worse than fire, worse than anything he'd every felt before. He'd only had magic turn upon him once before, and never, never by Sian. In the back of his mind he knew the mage was probably nearing the end of his next spell presently. Blearily, Shane looked up.

"S-.. Sian..." He managed to gasp before another Thundara spell hit him head on. _Celeste took four of Sian's spells. How did she manage it? I can barely move. _

He could see Celeste's form laying dormant upon the ground now, her singed hair, laying softly around her pale face. _Celeste... she'll die for sure if this keeps up. I have to... I have to try to do something. _

The thief girl shifted slightly, her eyes fluttering open. For a second, their eyes met. Hers were written with confusion for a second, and in the next second, they went wide. At once Shane closed his eyes, not from pain, but in order to shut out reality and prepare one last spell. Just to make one last strike at Sian, to let the mage know that he was a mage too, not a half-mage as so many others said.

"Shane!" Celeste's cries were in his ears. A battle cry rang out from the girl's lips, and Sian's chant stopped dead on his lips. He gave a pained gasp. She must have stabbed him somewhere, but he couldn't concentrate on just that.

He heard a groan beside him. His eyes snapped open for a second as he caught sight of Aye breaking out of his magic induced slumber. _Ye gods, I have to work fast ._

"You filthy wench, what on Gaia is wrong with you?" Sian gasped, "Why don't you just let him go, Tellerman isn't of any worth to you."

"And so what if he isn't?" Celeste shot back, "It's despicable that mages like you would sink as low as to kill your own kind."

"Don't speak of things you don't know." Sian cried, "The boy's a traitor to the Brotherhood. I don't act without my leader's word."

"It's mages like you that make me remember why I hate your kind." Celeste growled.

"It's women like you that make me remember why I hate filthy non-mages." Sian replied in turn, " I thought I'd let you watch your friend die, but I just can't wait to hear you draw your last ruddy breath."

The black mage let out a cackle, a blood curdling laugh that chilled Shane near to the bone. _This is your own fault, Sian. _He thought as he neared the end of his spell, _Just know that when you're hanged, you'll have deserved every moment of it. To think that my father died while mages like you still live. That's near a crime in itself, I hope you do die. _

"_Thunder!" _ A peal of lightning cut into Sian's bloodthirsty laugh, stalling his breath. He crumpled to the ground for a second. At that moment, Celeste by some miracle staggered to her feet. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she leaned against a nearby tree to keep her steady on her shaking legs, but her eyes were firm as ever. She bent down, grabbing Sian by the collar and hoisted him up so that the two were eye to eye.

"Sian!" Aye's voice came from behind Shane. He'd staggered to his feet, darting for Celeste with his dagger drawn. _No!He'll hurt Celeste again! He can't..._

Before Shane even began to think about his actions he'd grabbed a hold of Aye's ankle. The boy gave a startled cry, falling back to the ground a second later, his weapon bouncing from his grip. He and Shane both looked up at once, Aye in horror, and Shane in relief, as Celeste silently and quickly, stuck her knife into Sian's throat.

The move looked so simple, so easy to preform, like it shouldn't do a thing to a boy who wielded so much power. But Sian, still reeled back like any other mortal man would do. He gave a throaty gag that attempted to be a scream, and he fell to his knees his eyes wide in shock and pain. His hands were wrapped about his throat, clutching at the place where Celeste's knife had been seconds before. Blood cascaded down the boy's hands, staining his blue cloaks dark, and coating his hands with a shimmering red film illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. He bent back, his entire body shaking with tremors. His chest was heaving and he strained to draw breath, but the now gaping hole in his throat prevented them from doing him any good.

"Sian!" Aye's voice was high and frantic now as he scrambled to his twin brother's side. His eyes were wide with horror as he regarded his brother's writhing form, "Sian! Sian! No! Come on Sian! Hold on, I can help you!"

Aye had clasped his brother's shaking, bloodied hand in his. Sian looked up at his with pained eyes, as if pleading for his help, but in a second the pleading look in his eyes faded, and he suddenly looked tired, and distant.

"Sian! Sian stay with me!" Aye cried, his face streaked with tears already, _"Cure!" _He started throwing out spells, _"Cura!" "Curaga!" "Heal!"_

Sian blinked once more, but even he seemed to know that the spells would do nothing. Showers of white light fluttered around the boy, dancing about his limp, drained form, but to no avail, Sian's eyes had long grown dull, and his hand at last fell limp in his brother's. He was too late to save him.

"C-Come on!" Aye cried, _"Life!" "Curaja!" "Full-Life!" _"Anything! Sian! Sian! Look at me Sian! Come back! Come back!" He'd broken into sobs. The white mage lay his head down onto his brother's now still chest, shaking with bitter sobs.

Shane felt the energy rapidly draining from his limbs. With a ragged gasp he let himself fall limp. Aye's cries cut him like a knife, and struck him harder than any of Sian's spells. The boy was in hysterics. He clutched Sian's lifeless body close to his, calling his brother's name wildly. Somehow, Shane understood why he grieved the boy, for as wretched a person he had been. Sian was the only family Aye had left, his only companion. He was the boy he'd been with since birth, and the boy he'd shared his entire life with. Now fate had forced them apart. _I'm so sorry Aye._

"Aye..." Shane whispered, picking his head up to look at the boy. Aye turned to Shane, his eyes suddenly hard, cold.

"Y-.. you." Aye growled, "You murderer! I knew you betrayed the Brotherhood, but I never thought you'd betray me like this. You... you fiend, I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"

"G-get back!" Celeste warned, threatening Aye with her blade, "Get away, I'll kill you too."

Aye looked from Celeste to Shane a few times, his shaking hands pinned to his sides. He glared at the two of them coldly, with a fierce bite in his eyes that Shane had never seen in Aye before, but he made no move.

"Get on! Go!" Celeste cried, hurling a large stone at the boy. It struck him on the head, and he gave a cry, clutching the wound protectively. A small line of blood trickled between Aye's fingers.

"The Brotherhood will not forgive you for this!" Aye cried, "Consider yourself dead, Shane Tellerman! The next time we meet, I'll kill you myself!" With those words the white mage activated a teleportation charm, and he was gone.

The ensuing silence that took over the scene was as still and silent as death. Celeste faltered on her feet, at last collapsing to the ground. She groaned, her breath coming hard now.

"Shane, get Maric." Celeste gasped, "I don't care what time it is, I need a cure spell."

Shane didn't answer. He couldn't, right now he felt near paralyzed, not only from pain, but from shock. Sian lay a few meters away from him, his eyes wide, and glassy. The spell that had once cloaked his face in darkness had deactivated, and exposed Sian's face to the world. He looked exactly like Aye, blue eyes, curly golden hair, the only difference was that Sian's face was slightly paler, and more sunken.

_I've killed Sian. _For a second, he could barely believe it was real. He yearned for it to be a dream, he closed his eyes, wishing and praying that it was all a dream, that he would wake up and Maric would be there, standing over him, telling him he'd nearly gotten himself killed by forest imps, or something that wouldn't be of any consequence. When he opened his eyes he was still lying on the forest floor before Sian's corpse. _Ye gods, I've... I've killed Sian. I've killed another Brotherhood member, one of my own. Now I really am a traitor. I can never go back now. _

He shuttered. Blood loss was starting to make him feel dizzy._ And Aye... poor, poor Aye. He didn't need to see that. If my sleep spell had held for longer... at least he wouldn't have had to watch his brother die in his hands. Sian... Sian changed, even Sian was never this bad. Never this cruel. Maybe... maybe we're all beginning to lose our minds. Maybe it's better that I came to my senses before I was too late. Now I've sealed Aye's fate though, he'll fall into the same trap as all the others now, he'll never trust me. I can't do anything about it._

"Maric! Maric wake up! Come on you stupid mage, wake up!" Celeste was shaking the red mage frantically.

"Maric still should be under from mana depletion." Shane said softly, "Even if the sleep spell doesn't hold him, that will. I was surprised that spell didn't hold you, actually, how did you get through it?"

"I wasn't here, actually." Celeste admitted, "I took a little walk, and I came running when I heard someone calling a thunder spell. You're the only black mage I knew, so I assumed that you were..." All of a sudden, Celeste frowned. She eyed him cautiously, "Who were those other mages anyway?"

"What?" Shane looked up. He was sure the color would have drained from his face if it wasn't covered by his hat.

"You know, those two." Celeste had leaned back now, eying him coolly, "Sian and what's his face. Who were they?"

"Sian and Aye." Shane corrected softly. He felt his heart racing in his chest.

"Yes, of course." the thief girl paused for a second, urging the black mage on silently. His lips stayed tightly sealed. At last she urged again, "Who are they?"

"C-.. Celeste it's... it's not like you think it is, it..." Shane trailed off, his words jumbled, "It's... it's not important Celeste, they aren't important. We're alive, that's what counts."

"I think it's important to know who tried to kill you." Celeste pressed on, "And what is this Brotherhood thing? What have they got against you?"

"Celeste I... they... you don't understand." Shane cried, "You wouldn't understand it. It isn't.. it's not like you think it is, I..."

A smile contorted on the girl's features. Shane blinked, confused, as the girl leaned back against a tree, shaking her head.

"I think I understand." Celeste laughed slightly, looking back to Shane, "I see what's going on here. This Brotherhood thing... it's a gang, isn't it? Some sort of cult."

Shane felt his heart sink into his stomach. _She knows? No.. no this can't be. After I finally get rid of them, they still come back to haunt me. _

"It's... it's not like that Celeste!" Shane cried defensively, "They... they aren't... they never."

"They aren't a cult." Celeste smirked, "Half-mage, how stupid do you think I am?"

Shane flushed, "W-well I... I never thought.. I mean.. I didn't mean to... we... we weren't a cult..."

"Alright then, what did you call it? Gang, order, legion? Come on, it's all the same idea." Celeste pointed out, "So, what did you do?"

"What?"

"What did you do to get them so mad at you?"

"They... they aren't." Shane cried, "I've... I was never a part of them. They wanted me to join, but I never had a part in any of it, I swear, I.. I..."

"Shane," Celeste smile lightly, approaching him the way someone would approach a shy animal, "you trust me, right?"

Shane nodded vigorously, "Of course."

"And you know I would never try to hurt you, right?" Celeste asked, "I protected you didn't I? Risking my life for yours."

Shane nodded again.

"Then why are you still lying to me?"

Shane looked at Celeste, near astounded with the amount of sincerity in the girl's voice, and in her eyes. Up until now, he'd been used to maybe a backwards glance or look of contempt from the aloof thief girl. Maybe a half yelled order for when Stephon was too busy giving his own, but never before had she spoken to him as a person. Never as an equal.

"I... I'm sorry... I didn't..." Shane looked away, a little shaken, "I didn't mean to.. I..."

_She's hurt. _ He looked over to the girl once more noting her appearance. Her voice showed none of the exhaustion and pain he knew she was feeling right now. It showed in her eyes, she was really feeling terrible right now, and the hot blisters that now lined her arms showed testament to the blows she'd taken from Sian to save Shane from utter doom. _And I pay her back by lying to her. Maybe I am just as bad as the rest of them. _

"Celeste... I'm... I'm so sorry." Shane whispered, " I didn't mean any of what I did. Honest I didn't. If I could take it back I'd do it in a second. I swear I would, I've changed since then Celeste, I'm not like them. I was foolish, Celeste, what I did was..."

"Half-Mage, listen will you?" Celeste cut the boy off. Her voice was hard for a second, but her eyes stayed soft, and calming, " You don't have to worry about it."

"I don't?"

The thief girl shook her head, "No you don't. Because I forgive you."

"What?" Shane looked upon the girl in near disbelief.

"I forgive you for whatever you did when you were part of this Brotherhood thing." Celeste clarified.

"Celeste, you can't just..." Shane was near to in shock now, " You don't... you don't even know what happened, how can you..."

"Because I'm not as naïve as you think I am." Celeste snorted, "Trust me, you don't cover yourself as well as you think you do. It's a valiant attempt, I'll give you that, but it's easy to see that you're hiding something. Besides, you stutter when you're nervous." she smiled deviously.

Shane looked away, _You don't know as much as you think you do, Celeste. If you did you'd kill me dead __right now._

"Listen Shane, it doesn't matter what happened when you were part of them. I can almost see what this is all about. It was a moment of weakness right? You joined them because you needed someone you could rely on. They were mages like you, and they would accept you, so you saw them as a comfort." Celeste went on, "Am I right?"

Shane looked up, nodding, near mystified.

"You learned they weren't a good crowd to be with, but you kept with them because you had nowhere else to go, right?" Celeste continued, "Then when you tried to leave they wouldn't let you, and you've been labeled a traitor because you left, right?"

Shane looked up at the girl in awe, not sure whether to be astonished or terrified, "How did you know all that?"

"Again, it's not that hard to infer." Celeste replied, "You don't know how many cases I've seen that were exactly like yours, give or take a bit of magic. You're Codependent, naïve , rather defenseless on your own, you lack street smarts, and you have a need for companionship. That's easy enough to tell with the way you've taken to Stephon and Maric. It's a classic form, understandable because you're so young. People like you get into situations like yours pretty often actually."

Shane sighed, looking away once more, _But never the way I did._

"Look at me, Shane." Celeste's eyes were hard and serious now. She knew that she wasn't getting through to him, "People make mistakes, you understand? I've made them, you've made them, we all have, and we've all done things we aren't particularly proud of. The gods know I've done enough things that I'm not proud of, and I can guarantee that both Stephon and Maric have done the same. You're not the only person who's ever made a mistake in their life, you know."

Shane remained silent. What could he say?

"Look, if you don't want to talk to me about what happened, you don't have to. It's not important as long as we know we have to keep you as far away from the Brotherhood as possible." Celeste sighed, looking a little defeated, "But at least know that you don't have to lie to me about things like this. You know I can figure them out anyway."

"You... you won't tell Maric, will you?" Shane asked, "You won't tell him or Stephon about the Brotherhood, right?"

Celeste frowned as if thinking on it for a second, "If you don't want me to, I won't. It can be our little secret, okay?"

Celeste smiled, and Shane felt as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. _Maybe now I can finally leave all of this behind. It's all in the past, isn't it? I've changed, I'm not like them anymore. Maybe I never was like them._

A light groan snatched Shane away from his thoughts. He looked over to see a bleary eyed Maric slowly pulling himself back into consciousness.

"Urgh... ye gods... what happened?" Maric's voice was weak, and hoarse. He blinked a few times, looking over to Celeste and Shane, "Celeste... Celeste did... did the spell work?"

Groggily the red mage rose to his knees, blinking a few times as he looked Celeste and Shane over. His eyes traveled from the thief girl, to Shane, to Sian's body, and then back to Shane. He looked to Shane and then to Sian once more, blinking, and suddenly looking rather confused. In the next second he recoiled with a cry.

"That.... that is.... is that?" Maric stammered, searching both Celeste and Shane for answers, "What... what happened? Who? Where?"

Shane flushed, _Oh ye gods this isn't good. _He bit his lip, _I might have to explain the Brotherhood to Maric now too. Ye gods, I... I told him I got attacked by forest imps. Now he'll never trust me if... _

"We got attacked by mages in the night." Celeste explained, "A black mage and a white mage. They looked pretty hungry, probably were fighting for some gil to buy food. Half-Mage and I managed to kill one of them, but the white mage got away."

"Ye gods, more mages." Maric shook his head, a hand kneading his temples, "Were there any others?"

"Nope, just two."

Maric sighed, "It just gets worse every day, doesn't it?" he looked to Celeste and Shane again, "You two look terrible. Would you like me to heal you?"

"Actually that would be pretty good." Celeste noted.

"Are you sure you can, Maric?" Shane frowned, eying Maric cautiously, " You have enough mana?"

"I'm fine Shane." Maric smiled, "Just fine, never better in fact."

Somehow Shane didn't entirely believe him, but even so, a couple of quick cure spells later, Shane found himself suddenly feeling much farther away from death than he had been before. Even Celeste seemed to have recovered quite a bit, though even so, she had to look away while Maric was casting. Even now magic seemed to unnerve her. _It must have been hard for her to fight Sian like that._

After a few seconds Maric's confident smile faded a bit. He looked exhausted, his eyes half lit, and his body slouched over a bit. Using so much magic over the last few days was taking it's toll on the poor boy, he was all but used up. _It's a good thing we're almost back to Corneria. To many more battles and he might kill himself using all that mana. After all, he's not shielded, every spell he casts must pull on him twice as much as it pulls on me._

"So what do we do with S-... ah... with the mage?" Shane asked, at last looking over to Sian's dormant form once more. His blank stare was unnerving to say the least, and he looked so much like Aye, Shane couldn't help imagining that it was the shy and mild white mage that he had killed instead.

"We really should burn the body." Maric pointed out, " Mage or not, he was still a person."

"Barely." Celeste commented under her breath.

"Celeste please," Maric grunted, exasperated, "You know, Shane and I are mages too."

"It's alright Maric." Shane defended the girl softly, "I agree with Celeste, he wasn't much of a person. He was terrible and cruel. He wasn't like we are. He deserved what happened to him."

Maric looked from Sian's dead body to Shane once more. It was easy to see why Maric would think that was hard to believe. Sian had died in a horrible way. A horrible, bloody, terrifying way; but if Maric could have seen Sian seconds before his death, he'd have agreed with Celeste as well.

"R-.. right." Maric said hesitantly, "I think we should wake Stephon up too. It isn't safe here, and I'm not sure if I could heal you all again if another mage shows up. We need to get out of here as soon as we can. After all you did say one of the mages got away. Maybe he'll be back."

Shane nodded. Maric was right, they couldn't stay. Right now Aye was probably relaying the information to Clayton that his twin brother was now dead. Who knew how long it would be before Clayton started sending mages over? They might have the entire Brotherhood to deal with before the morning broke.

"Maric? Celeste? What's going on?" Stephon was waking up as well now. Apparently the sleep spell had worn off.

"Miss Celeste, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to doze off." Lady Sara was entering the clearing as well now, "The most peculiar feeling came over me, I simply couldn't keep my eyes open, I didn't realize I had..."

Lady Sara never got to finish her sentence. She broke off into a cry as one of her feet landed on Sian's arm, and she was met with the dead mage's wide, staring eyes.

"Ye merciful gods!" Stephon cried recoiling as he intercepted a now terror stricken Lady Sara, "What happened?"

"Mages." Maric said bitterly, standing, "We have to leave this place as soon as we can. There was another one that got away, I don't want to think about what might happen if he came back."

Stephon nodded, his fingers drumming nervously against the hilt of his sword, "Do you know if there are any more around here?"

"We only saw two." Celeste shook her head, "We had a pretty lengthy run in with the two of them. I don't think there are any more but, still we'd better be careful. This one that we fought was incredibly strong, and he was only a peon of another, even stronger mage. I don't want to think about what would happen if we had to fight more like him."

"Right then." Stephon sighed, prying Lady Sara's hands from around his neck, "It couldn't hurt to get a head start. We'll leave for Corneria now. As soon as we get there I'll pay for an inn, and we'll all have a good warm meal for a change. You don't mind, do you Lady Sara?"

The girl shook her head, "I've been away for some time longer than you have, Master Carris." she said, "Any kind of food we could have would be just marvelous."

"Good then." Stephon smiled, "It will only be a little ways. I promise."

"Lying through your teeth" Celeste grunted, standing.

"Well.. it's a good few miles" Stephon amended, "But.. but it is much closer. "

"Master Carris, I'm fine with walking for a while." Lady Sara said with a smile, "After all, I'm walking alongside my prince am I not?"

Shane was sure he'd never seen Stephon's face so red. He couldn't help giggling a little.

"Wait... am I missing something?" Maric looked from Stephon to Sara a couple times, confusion written all over his face.

"Don't worry Maric." Celeste clasped a hand over his shoulder, "I'll tell you all about it on the way over."

The five of them started off through the still dark forest as quietly as possible. Stephon and Sara took the lead, and Celeste was busy getting Maric caught up with everything that had happened, being careful not to allude to anything Brotherhood related. Shane was glad for that, though he couldn't help feeling a little guilty, lying to Maric like this.

_It's for his own good. _Shane assured himself, _If Maric knew about the Brotherhood, ye gods who knows how he'd react? He's not like Celeste, he would want to know everything about them, and by knowing, that would make him an enemy of the Brotherhood as well. Ye gods, he and Rachen protected me under the impression that I was just as innocent as they were. If he knew what I'd done, ye gods he'd hate me for it._

He looked to Celeste. Celeste who was so afraid of mages, yet had defended him up to the point where she nearly got killed herself. _She would hate me if she knew too. They all would if they could feel the rush, the sheer joy and bliss I felt when... _he shook his head, closing his eyes, _No, I can't think about it. Not about that. That's over now. I know I'm different now. _

But still his fingers tingled. His heart pounded in his chest, as an adrenaline rush pumped through his veins. He could still feel his knife in his hands. He could feel how easily, how quickly it slipped into human flesh, how easy it was to take a life. He realized only now that there really was a knife in his hands. One of Sian's twin daggers, still dripping with blood. After he had grabbed it to defend Celeste he hadn't let it go, it was still in his hand, while in the other he carried his staff. He swallowed hard. _Don't think about it. I'll never take a life again unless it's necessary. I promised myself I wouldn't. Life is precious, it's not something I should steal from someone. Not unless they didn't deserve it to begin with._

He looked up at the figures that walked before him now. Stephon and Sara, Maric and Celeste. Suddenly he found himself wishing that it had been him to shove that knife into Sian's throat. He clenched his hands into fists. They were shaking slightly. _I'll get used to it. _He assured himself, _It's only been a few days since I left the Brotherhood._

He took a quivering breath, his hand closing tighter around the knife's hilt It was a well designed weapon, much nicer than his was. There was an ornate design on the blade, a sweeping, flower like pattern. It had a slight curve to the blade as well, making ideal for a cutting attack. With two of them you could easily cripple a man with a cut using one, and then gore him through the heart with the other. Or perhaps the throat would work better. After all, it was a good cutting weapon. Why waste all that potential?

Shane's heart was pounding now. His palms were sweating as he gripped the blade. He realized only now that a pair of eyes were staring up at him, bright yellow and glowing, and they held a savage, animal like hint to them that Shane could only connect to one person. _Sian! _His eyes went wide, startled by his enemy's savage stare. To his surprise the eyes that were trapped inside the blade went wide with his.

Shane's arms suddenly felt weak. He blinked, staring back at the two yellow glowing orbs in disbelief. _ That's.... me?_ He stopped in his tracks, his breath suddenly catching in his throat, _No! No I'm not like him! I'm not! _A strangled cry burst from his lips as he flung the weapon off into the woods, looking away as it flew out of sight.

"Shane?" Maric turned at once, "What... is there something there?"

"Another mage?" Celeste's eyes were wide with fear, and she gripped her own weapon with a white knuckled grip.

"Nope, Imps." Stephon called back, his voice sounding both irritated and anxious at the same time, "Stay back and stick together. There's a lot of them."

"Stephon, I don't have any more mana." Maric hissed, drawing his sword, "What am I supposed to do?"

"You have a sword. Fight!" Stephon cried, "Lady Sara, you stay behind me. Don't worry, imps die easy, I'm sure this won't be..."

All at once imps began rushing from the woodwork, running every which way. There were hundreds of them, thousands even, all ducking about in random sporadic patterns, as if they didn't know exactly where they wished to go themselves.

"Oh ye merciful gods." Stephon's voice suddenly went low, his voice crossed with terror.

"That isn't right." Maric cried, "The sun's just rising now, imps should be trying to find shelter, not coming out!"

"Well they're out now, Maric." Celeste cried, "Don't just stand there, do something!"

All at once Stephon had descended upon the swarming mass, sweeping his blade left and right to cut off as many imp heads as he could. All at once Shane's heart sank. _I_ s_hould have kept the knife._

Even so his staff worked well to at least kill a few imps. A good crack to the head was generally enough to snap an imp neck, and that was all Shane needed. The imp horde ganged up on him quickly though. Eventually enough had latched onto his cloaks that he began to feel heavy. He moved to shake the little demons from his arms, but to no avail, they held fast, their knives slicing painfully at his arms. He stumbled over to a nearby tree, his hands wrapping around it to keep himself steady, but that did little to help him. Blood dribbled down his arms freely. _I have to try a spell. Just to try. I must have some mana left. _

"They look scared!" Celeste cried, hacking away a couple more imps with his knives. She was holding two now. Once was hers, and one was Sian's, "It's almost like they've been frightened by something."

"Shane! Look out!" A group of imps fell dead around him as Maric's figure appeared behind him for a second. He turned swiftly, stabbing another couple of imps with the longsword he now wielded . He was much slower with this blade, but when his attacks hit, they hit hard, felling a couple of imps at a time.

By now Shane was chanting a sleep spell. Chances were he wouldn't have to worry about mana depletion. He was well shielded after all, at worst he'd start to feel a little faint.

"_Sleep!"_ A number of imps dropped into a light slumber around him, but now Maric was nowhere to be seen.

"Maric!" Shane cried, looking around, "Maric where..."

Another group of imps quickly rose to take the place of those that had fallen to Shane's sleep spell. _I guess Maric will have to wait._ He thought, jumping out of the way of a couple of groping hands. At last he spotted Maric. He was alongside Stephon now, trying to urge the knight to move. He had fallen, his sword digging into the ground to support him, his face white as a sheet.

"Sir Carris!" Shane cried, rushing forward as the knight toppled over, bashing raging imps away with his staff.

"Stephon, come on now, stay with me!" Maric cried, frantically swinging his sword to relieve the fallen knight of a good few imps, but there were more, so many more.

"We have to retreat!" Stephon cried, righting himself shakily for a second, before the imps pulled him down once more, "Maric get out of here, we have to..."

All at once a second sword suddenly cut through another piece of the imp horse, allowing Stephon to stagger to his knees. All at once a group of knights all mounted on, not horses, but what appeared to be large yellow birds, rode into the path, cutting down a good number of imps, and chasing the rest back into the woods, scrambling over each other.

"Need a hand, brother?"

At once every Warrior of Light looked up to see the tall, regal figure of a smirking Talon Carris, offering a hand down to Stephon.

"Talon!" Stephon's features were crossed with joy as he beheld his brother's figure, his armor gleaming red in the rising sun. A rush of energy seemed to fill the knight as he jumped to his feet and embraced his brother warmly. Talon returned the gesture in kind, grinning at his brother.

"Ye gods, where the devil have you been?" Talon cried, "When mother heard about the quest, she had a fit. We all thought you were as good as dead."

"Well, you can't exactly rescue a princess in a day, Talon." Stephon laughed, "But no,I'm alive, and so is Lady Sara."

Shyly, the girl peered out from behind a tree trunk, looking a bit shaken, but wholly unarmed.

"Ye gods Lady Sara!" Talon cried, his eyes suddenly wide with astonishment, "You did it Stephon! I can't believe it, you really did it!"

"Of course I did!" Stephon said smirking, "You see Talon, the king knew what he was doing when he sent me." He clapped a hand around the young man's shoulder, "But, I do have to admit, I really couldn't have done it without help."

Talon's smile faltered a bit as he looked back to the other Light Warriors. Shane allowed himself to meet the man's eyes for a second, only for him to be met with a sharp glare. He turned away. _I suppose just because he's Sir Carris's brother doesn't mean he's going to be like him. _A shutter crawled down Shane's spine as he remembered Talon's cruel smile, as he'd walked over to hold him over the chemical fire he'd started in Rachen's magic shop. Stephon had changed since then, but his younger brother was still as terrible as he'd been when they had left.

"Stephon, we can talk about this all you like when we get back to the castle, but right now you look terrible." Talon noted, "We need to get you and Lady Sara back to the castle as soon as possible now."

"Talon, why on Gaia are you out here anyway?" Stephon asked, frowning.

"Like I said, we'd all but given up hope back at home." Talon said, a hint of sadness in his voice, "I'd just about marked you as dead, and as I said, mother was in hysterics."

"And father?"

"Eh?"

"Did father say anything?"

"Oh, father was rather broken up too, we all were." Talon assured him, "But that isn't the point. You see, the queen sent me with this battalion to kill Garland for her and retrieve Sara, but it looks like my job is already done. I have to say, I'm glad I don't have to face the man."

Stephon looked relieved as Talon said this, and continued to relax into his old habits as he conversed with his brother. Talon consented to lend Lady Sara his stead, whatever it was supposed to be for the ride home, while he took the time to catch up with his brother.

Stephon looked to the large yellow bird once more, questions seeming to be brimming up inside him.

"Talon, what on Gaia is that.. that..."

"Oh, what these?" Talon gestured to the large yellow bird beside him, "Chocobos, dear brother, they're called Chocobos. They're quite like horses but twice as fast and twice as strong. They also take about ten times as much effort to train, they're a new project back at the castle. It's coming along though, in a good few years I'd be surprised if everyone wasn't using them."

The two talked like old friends, laughing and shouting. Shane was sure he'd never seen Stephon look so at ease or happy. His eyes shone with a kind of light he'd never seen in him before. Gone was the tension he'd seen between the two brothers the first time he'd met them. Shane would admit, he didn't like Talon much, but as long as Stephon was happy, he was happy.

"So they cleared out the entire estate for that?" Stephon was shouting, a laugh in his voice.

"No lie. Almost two hours it took them to realize it was all a joke!" Talon cried, raising his head in a laugh.

_It's nice to see them all together again. _Shane thought smiling, _Stephon's happy now. I hope it lasts for him. I really do. _

Beside him Maric and Celeste didn't seem as relieved as he was. In fact, there was a serious, calculating look on Celeste's face, and Maric looked a little lost, and confused.

"Shane, I don't like this Talon fellow." Maric whispered suddenly, looking at Talon warily, "Do you?"

"Well not as a person no." Shane replied, "Why?"

"I don't like the way he looks at us. It's like we're lower than him." Maric said.

"Stephon used to look at us that way too." Shane pointed out, "The difference between Sir Carris and Sir Talon is that Sir Carris has had the time to develop an understanding of us. Sir Talon hasn't."

"I do remember Lady Sara saying that the two of them used to be at odds constantly." Celeste noted, "It seems strange that they act so kindly towards each other now."

"Well, they are brothers Celeste." Maric noted, "There is the possibility that they missed each other's company. Or perhaps it was simply Talon who missed Stephon, since it was Stephon who left him."

"Maybe." Celeste said, "Or maybe Talon wants something from him."

"You're so cynical, Celeste." Maric smirked, " They're brothers Celeste, all brothers fight at one point or another. I think they still feel something for each other, even when they're at odds with each other."

"Still," the thief girl sighed, "I don't like it. Talon looks at Stephon strangely too, you know? Not the way he looks at us but... strangely, as if... I don't know, he just smiles a bit too much. Like he's forcing it."

"Well, Stephon was never a very subtle person." Maric pointed out, "Maybe Talon isn't either."

"I don't think Sir Talon is anything like Sir Carris." Shane said quietly. Somehow he couldn't imagine Stephon's eyes shining with the same hungry malice that Talon's had. It seemed wrong, out of place.

"Not any more." Maric affirmed, nodding, "But you have to remember what Stephon was like before the quest." Subconsciously, the red mage rubbed the side of his neck, as if trying to feel the place where Stephon had nearly strangled him to death.

Shane nodded. He'd nearly forgotten the events that had led up to the quest, being a bit preoccupied with other things. Perhaps Stephon had been cruel, but he wasn't anymore. He hadn't changed very drastically, he was still arrogant and a bit unkind at times, but he wasn't cruel as he used to be. _Celeste is right then, I suppose. Stephon's learned to change too. _

The sun was high above them now. The gates of Corneria now loomed before them, both a welcome sign of home, and a foreboding sign. The last time Shane had marched through these gates, he was being led to a dungeon.

"Alright men, stay here and rest a while." Stephon turned to the three of them at last, seeming far more up beat than usual, "There still are some rations left in our supply bag. There will be a feast later I'm sure but, you all look exhausted, and it may be some time before everything is sorted out."

He gave a slight wave as he disappeared through the city gates, he and his brother still side by side.

Sighing, Shane let himself drop to the ground, weary from their journey, and still aching from his encounter with Sian. Maric's healing wasn't up to speed yet, and he honestly looked like he was struggling to stay awake. Even so, there was a troubled hint in the Red Mage's eyes. He looked worried, perhaps about Stephon, perhaps about Rachen, perhaps about something else that Shane wouldn't have been able to guess at, seeing as he'd only know the white haired youth for a short while.

As for Shane, he found himself worrying about Stephon most of all. Something didn't sit right with him about Stephon's brother. No matter how hard he thought on it, he couldn't get past Talon's cruel laughter, his knowing smile, and above all, the fact that he knew something about the Brotherhood that Shane didn't. Somehow he couldn't attach that Talon to the Talon that Stephon knew. Relating the noble and righteous Sir Carris, to the cruel and evil Sir Talon didn't seem right. It couldn't be right.

The Cornerian soldiers around the camp stood in a tight circle around the Warriors of Light. Shane had to admit, the men made him feel nervous. Celeste and Maric seemed just about as at ease as he was, sitting straight backed and tense. One of the men, a blond with a large, out of place looking Mustache was whispering to another one of the soldiers. A nod was exchanged between the two of them, and at once both shot a sideways glance towards the three Warriors of Light.

All at once the mustached man unsheathed his sword, holding aloft pointed at the three now exhausted warriors. The man's fellow soldiers followed suit, and soon every soldier in the large circle had the swords aimed threateningly at the three warriors in the middle.

"Stand, you three are under arrest." The mustached man said in a loud stern voice. Shane's heart nearly stopped in his chest.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Maric cried, rising to his feet at once, "We've done nothing wrong. In fact we've risked our lives for the sake of the kingdom! What have we done?"

"Our orders come from Lord Carris." the man said in a stony emotionless voice, though his eyes held a hint of uncertainty, "You are to be taken to the dungeons at once."

"Stephon!" Celeste cried, "You mean to tell me that Stephon would..."

"No, no ma'am, you're mistaken. Our orders came from no 'Stephon Carris'" the Cornerian said at once, "It was Lord Antoine Carris who gave the order."

"Antoine.." Celeste hissed, "That's..." All at once a look of horror crossed the girl's face as she turned to the city gates that were now closed. Talon and Stephon's figures had long disappeared.

"Stephon!" Maric cried, rushing towards the gates, "Stephon, it's a trap! Come back, don't..." one of the soldiers came up behind the red mage, quickly elbowing him in the back to send him to his knees, and then, binding his hands behind him with shackles.

A couple of soldiers had approached Celeste as well now. The girl ducked away from the two of them, only to intercepted by another one. She was quickly pinned down, struggling and screaming the whole while until finally she found herself bound in chains as well.

Shane could only watch in horror as his two comrades were quickly subdued, unable to do anything before a pair of shackled were locked around his hands as well.

"You'll pay for this, Talon Carris!" Celeste was screaming, "You'll pay! I'll kill you for this! I'll gut you like the swine you are you filthy mongrel bastard!"

Somehow Shane couldn't help thinking that Celeste was wrong here. Talon Carris wasn't going to be the one to pay. _After all. As they say, no good dead goes unpunished._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Damn it all to hell! Curse it! Curse my rotten luck!" Stephon's voice rang from the catacombs of the Cornerian dungeons, as he pounded his fists against the cool cell walls.

"That traitor." he spat as he paced the small room, "That fiend, that traitor. To think I called him my brother, to think it!"

At last Stephon sunk to his knees, suddenly utterly overcome by desperation and desolation. He'd been tricked. Utterly decieved. _The one time I decide to really try to do some good, and this is how I'm repaid?_ He gritted his teeth, _Only to be cast down with the criminals I helped save, to be kept out like a dog. Thank you King Leo. Thank you for letting me risk my life for you, in order to be met with this!_

He sighed. In reality, it wasn't Leo's fault. He knew that. In reality, his being imprisoned was all Talon's doing.

"_Care for another brandy, brother?"_

_Of course he had obliged. What else could anyone have expected him to do. He was utterly exhausted, and finally sitting back in comfort, in one of the lavish rooms of Castle Corneria no less, he couldn't help indulging himself a bit. After the last couple of days, he felt he deserved it. His only regret was that he hadn't invited Celeste, Shane and Maric to join him. They'd worked just as hard as he had, after all._

"_Talon, when are you planning on sending the others over?"_

_For a second he looked confused, "Others?" Talon repeated frowning, "Oh, you mean the Warriors of... ah..."_

"_Warriors of Light, Talon." Stephon finished._

"_Ah yes, well, they're being sent for presently I'm sure." Talon finished, "I'm sorry we couldn't bring them but, you simply can't let someone into Castle Corneria looking like that. You were a special case, being of noble blood."_

"_They are really good souls, Talon." Stephon sighed, leaning back in his chair, "A little annoying sometimes, but at the same time, they were really good. Shane was a really character. You know he called me 'Sir Carris' the whole time, just because I snapped at him once. Good kid, creepy as all hell, but good." he laughed, "And Maric, ye gods he was annoying, but in the end he came in handy. You know he does healing magic? Calls himself a red mage. And you know the girl Celeste? She ended up being a pretty good fighter too. Really, amazingly fast with a knife."_

_Talon didn't look like he was listening to a word he was saying, but even so, Stephon couldn't help talking. He liked talking about them, in fact he liked thinking about them too. They'd been better company to him than Talon ever was, and he had to admit, when they were gone he would miss them. He would miss them a great deal._

"_You know I'm actually glad I didn't take your advice."_

"_What's that now?" Suddenly Talon's attention was drawn towards his brother._

"_I'm glad I didn't kill them." Stephon said again, "They ended up being... rather helpful in the end."_

"_Did they now?" Talon's eyes narrowed suddenly, and he looked back at his brother over his shoulder, "What makes you say that?"_

"_Talon there are quite a few times that I would have died if they weren't with me." Stephon explained, "You really shouldn't look down on them that much. They might be common, but they're not like you think they are."_

"_Are they now?" Talon asked, "Brother, do you intend to be this weak minded when you're king?"_

"_What?" Stephon sat up straight now, "Talon, what on Gaia...?"_

"_A king can't be too easy on his subjects you know. You can't simply pardon a murderer because he seems like an amiable fellow, you know."_

"_Well, I know that Talon but..." Stephon began._

"_Are you trying to tell me they _aren't_ guilty brother?" Talon looked upon him with accusing eyes, "Is that what you think? So thievery and murder aren't crimes."_

"_None of them killed anyone!" Stephon stood now, "Are you trying to accuse us of..."_

"_What about treason?" Talon continued, "Attacking us before. What about use of magic, what about...?"_

"_Those things are petty, Talon! They don't deserve to die for them."_

"_And if everyone in Corneria was running around like they were how would this country look? It would be in shambles." _

"_W-.. well... I..." Stephon's words were lost on him. For a second it was because he realized that Talon was absolutely correct. He couldn't rule a country this way._

_In the next second he found himself no longer able to speak at all as a tremor shook his limbs. He swallowed hard, an ill feeling rising in his stomach. The goblet he'd been holding slipped from his grasp, spilling it's contents on the ground. He groped out for his chair only for his knees to buckle. A gasp escaped his lips as he collapsed, his limbs suddenly feeling numb. _

"_T-talon!" he cried out, stretching an arm out towards his brother, " Talon help me!"_

_A smirk spread across Talons face as he turned away, and Stephon's arm dropped to the side, going numb as well. He breathed hard, trying not to black out. Strangely he didn't feel faint, he was just entirely unable to move._

" _That's why you're not going to be king, brother." Talon stooped down to Stephon so that the two were locking eyes, "Sorry, we just couldn't risk it."_

_A cold feeling rushed through Stephon's limbs. _He's put poison in my cup, that's what he's done. He means to kill me!

"_Hmm... still breathing." Talon commented, "Must not have consumed enough before it took effect. Well.. it's no matter, if I throw him in a cell for a few days, I'd be surprised if he survived for terribly long."_

_Talon smiled, rising to his feet, "No hard feelings, brother. I'd kill you here myself but, I'd hate to have to dirty my hands like that. After all, fratricide isn't a very popular act these days."_

_The world had begun to grow hazy now. It was getting hard for Stephon to stay awake. He could only watch as the world faded away around him and went dark, and he wondered if he would ever wake up again._

In the end, he did wake up again inside of a cell somewhere in the Cornerian dungeon, with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and feeling as if his insides were trying to rip themselves in two. He rolled over, vomited, and then proceeded to stalk the cell, searching for a way out. Of course there was none. Corneria housed mages down here, if it was so easy to get out, they'd never contain anyone for more than a few minutes.

"That... that fiend!" Stephon cried again, pounding his fists against the wall, "I can't believe it. I can't believe him!"

_My own brother, _Stephon shook his head in disbelief, _Talon, my Talon, the Talon I used to play Bandits and Heroes with. He just tried to kill me. It can't be, that can't be right. I knew he was jealous of me, but..._

"Hey!" Stephon cried down the corridor, his voice echoing down the halls, "Hey, is anyone out there? Will someone please open this door!" he was met with no reply, the corridor was empty, "I am the future head of the Carris household, I refuse to be held as a captive here! I demand freedom from this wretched place at once!"

His voice echoed a few times as testament to his cries, but no answer came. A shutter wracked Stephon's body as he fell to his knees. It was dreadfully cold, and wet. He was sure he still had some of what ever Talon had tried to kill him with running through his veins, since his hands still shook with tremors every so often. _Maybe I really will die down here. _

He closed his eyes, leaning hie head against the cold stone wall. The cool stone didn't help him to feel any better, he was chilled to the bone, but even so, he felt himself growing drowsy again. He closed his eyes for only a moment, trying to forget his situation.

_The sky was dark. A strong, harsh wind was blowing, and he stood in the middle of an empty court yard, a tall gallows looming before him. He saw a man's silhouette swinging gently in the breeze, hanging by the neck from the noose. His arms were limp, he appeared to be long dead._

"_It hurts you know, hanging." a voice commented over the wind. A ghostly figure, quite like the ghosts they had fought in the Corneria swamps appeared before him. It was clad in tattered robes, but instead of a blank abyss, it bore Maric's face._

"_I guess you wouldn't know. You didn't have to go through with it." the ghostly Maric's words were matter of fact, as if he were talking about the weather, "By the time it's over, you're wishing you were dead. At least, I know I did."_

"_I wish you could have done something." Celeste's voice was coming now, and a second specter appeared, bearing the thief girl's likeness, "I didn't want to die. We did all this for you, you know, is this how you repay us?"_

"_Why didn't you come back for us, Sir Carris?" Now Shane was there too. His specter wore his signature mage's hat, " We all thought you would, since we came back for you, but I guess we were wrong. I thought that friends were supposed to help each other when they're in trouble. I guess this means we weren't friends after all."_

"_What do you want from me?" Stephon cried out, batting the ghostly forms away, "I couldn't do anything! I didn't have any choice in what happened! It's not my fault!"_

"_Stephon, we waited for you." Celeste's figure said sadly, "We thought you would come."_

"_It's not my fault!" Stephon cried, "Begone! Away with you! Away!"_

"_It's alright, Sir Carris, we understand if you didn't want to help us. It didn't hurt for very long."_

"_No! No! Begone with you, foul spirits! Begone!"_

"_We don't hold it against you, Stephon." Maric's ghostly form smiled a sad, peaceful smile, "It's okay, you'll understand what it's like in a second."_

_Stephon felt a chill crawl down his spine, as a hand grabbed his shoulder. A bony skeletal hand, just bone, no flesh. Stephon gave a cry, spinning around to find himself face to face with the hangman. His face was covered by a black mask, and a smile was on his lips._

"_You're next," The hangman said. Slowly his mask melted away, and he was met with the figure of Talon's face, smirking down at him, "dear brother."_

_All at one the silhouetted figure hanging from the noose was bathed in a light from above, and Stephon could see plainly that the figure in the noose was him. A limp, purple faced double of himself stared back at Stephon with dead unseeing eyes. Bloodshot, vacant, glassy eyes._

"_No.." Stephon breathed, "No, it can't be! That can't be me, it can't be!"_

"_Don't worry, Stephon, we'll all be together now."_

_Stephon looked down at his hands, now turned skeletal, reduced to nothing but bone. He took a step back, his heart racing. It was suddenly hard to breathe, he could feel the noose strangling him to death. A dark cloud was closing in on him, dragging him under into a land where only suffering could exist. He was suffocating._

"No!" the echo's of Stephon's cries across the jolted him out of his restless slumber. Sweat dotted his forehead, and he was breathing hard. Panting Stephon looked down at his hands. They were human, normal, and still wrapped around the middle with bandages. A sigh escaped Stephon's lips, _It was all a dream. Thank the gods._

_Or, was it?_ A terrible thought occurred to the warrior suddenly, _If Talon tried to kill me, maybe he'd want the other warriors dead too. Maybe they already..._

Stephon's heart sank into his stomach, _Maybe they're already dead. I left them out there with those soldiers, there's no way they could have fought them all._ A feeling of desperation settled over Stephon, and he put his head in his hands, _Ye gods, Talon he's... he's killed them all! He must have!_

It would have been easy for them. Simple. Celeste gets speared through in a valiant attempt to defend herself, Maric gets hit by a dozen arrows trying to heal the fallen thief, and Shane gets his head cut off mid spell. They might be able to take two or three of them at most. Never all, they were out numbered and out matched. _Ye gods what have I done?_

A sick feeling rose in Stephon's stomach again. For a second nausea gripped him, but he knew he no longer had anything left in his stomach. The feeling left him after a few seconds, but the pain didn't. It was getting hard to breathe again. It hurt to breathe. _Maybe my dream was a warning. That the other warriors are dead, and if I don't do something, I'm next. _

He'd broken into a cold sweat. His hands still shook, and the tremors seemed to grow worse with each passing second. _And not far behind I'd expect._

All at once Stephon was sure he heard footsteps. _Must be the poison talking. _He thought ruefully, but again he heard them. Small and unsure, but slowly and steadily growing louder at every second.

"Hey!" Stephon cried at last, shakily rising to his feet and grabbing onto the barred window that separated him from the outside world, "Hey, you over there! Can you help me?"

"Master Carris?"

That voice was unmistakable. Stephon flushed as from the darkness emerged nervous looking lady Sara, cloaked in a dirty old rag of a cloak. The girl's eyes lit up as she beheld Stephon, and she rushed up to him grabbing his hands.

"Stephon! You're alive! I'd feared they had all but done away with you!"

"Lady Sara!" Stephon cried, his heart near bursting with joy, "Lady Sara, you are well! How did you know I was down here?"

"Oh Stephon, it was awful." Sara cried, "I kept saying I wished to see you and the rest of the warriors, but they all kept assuring me it was all to come in good time and then.. I'm afraid I don't know what happened, someone must have put a sleeping drug in my tea and..."

"Sleeping..." Stephon murmured, "How long have I been down here?"

"Why, Master Carris, it's been a day, nearly two!" Sara cried, "I was confined to my room, Stephon, it was terrible, when I woke up I was told you had died! The only comfort I had was in hearing a tid bit from Talon that hinted that you were alive yet and being detained. If I hadn't I'd have never snuck out. Oh and I am so glad to see you live yet."

"And I you lady Sara." Stephon said smiling. After a moment, his expression changed to one of confusion, "Wait, what do you mean you snuck out?"

"Oh I always used to before. Sir Garland showed me how, it's dreadfully easy." Sara smiled, "Just down the lattice, and into the garden, and away from there."

"I see.." Stephon said, not sure whether to be thankful for her skill, or surprised that she'd learned it.

"Oh but Stephon, your hands are so dreadfully cold." the girl's face fell at once, "and your face is.. what have they done to you?"

"Nothing of much importance." Stephon whispered, "Talon tried to kill me, but I swear it'll take more than some tainted brandy to claim my life."

"Oh Stephon, you must run," The click of a lock suddenly bore the door separating the two of them open, and they were united at last.

Stephon met the girl with a tight embrace, "Where on Gaia did you get those keys?" He asked, smiling fondly at the girl.

"A prison guard wouldn't dare deny a royal anything." Sara explained with a flip of her hair, "Royal blood does come in handy."

"That it does." Stephon nodded, "Unless someone is trying to spill it."

"Stephon, please don't say things like that." Sara's eyes went hard, "Master.... Lord Carris plans to end your life."

"I know that." Stephon said at once, "It was Talon who poisoned me! He told me to my face that he wanted me dead."

"No, not master Talon." Sara's eyes were pained suddenly, "Those were... these are Lord _Antoine_ Carris's orders. To have you beheaded in the morning."

"My... my father?" Stephon's throat went dry all of a sudden, "That's... that isn't true! That can't be true, my father would never do something so dreadful!"

"Perhaps... perhaps I heard wrong." the princess amended, her eyes troubled, "But I.. I could have sworn that man said Antoine."

"You heard wrong!" Stephon cried, his eyes wild, "You heard wrong! It can't be! Father would never want me dead. Father wanted me to be king. What would he gain from killing me? Why would he want Talon to be king instead? It doesn't make sense! It doesn't make sense! I'm his first born, Sara!"

"Calm down, master Carris." Lady Sara soothed, "Stephon please. It must have been me. I'm wrong, I'm sure of it. He said Talon, not Antoine."

"Y-.. you're right." Stephon said, putting a hand to his head, "This is... all just a big misunderstanding. I'll.. I'll speak with my father as soon as I can."

"Stephon, you must run as soon as you can." Sara cried, "You can't linger here."

Stephon nodded. The girl spoke the truth. Right now preserving his own life was the most important thing to do. That and the lives of the other Warriors of Light. _The other warriors..._

"Sara are... are the others?"

Sara shook her head, "I'm not sure, I heard nothing of them." Stephon's heart sank. Sara smiled reassuringly, putting an arm on Stephon's shoulder, "I'm sure they're fine, Stephon. No man would dare touch the head of any of the Warriors. Not with how the king has been acting. It would be easy enough to throw them in a cell and forget about them. After all, I wouldn't want to be the man caught with a warrior's blood on my hands."

Stephon smiled. _I trust you Sara. You're the only one in this filthy castle I can trust._

"Sara I must go now." Stephon said softly, "I'll return as soon as I can."

"Oh Stephon," Sara's eyes were sad, "Don't speak of returning until you've gone away. Until you are safe."

"You must come with us."

"I can not." Sara's eyes were sad, "I can't leave father. Not now, he would be devastated. He and mother."

"Sara it isn't safe here!" Stephon cried, "You might be killed. If someone tried to..."

"They couldn't." There was confidence in Sara's eyes, "They'd be beheaded at once for even thinking such a thing..

Stephon nodded, "I'm sorry, I must leave."

"Just a second more." There was a quiver in Sara's voice now. Stephon turned back to look at the girl.

"I'd like you to have this." Sara said softly, retreaving from under her cloaks a long wooden tube. It was ornately designed with curves and flowers, and it was marked with six small holes. A small slit was cut in the top. Stephon looked up to the royal girl, a quizzical look on his face, "It's a flute. I'm afraid it doesn't work very well, but, in case we don't meet up again I... I wanted you to keep it."

"Sara.." Stephon breathed. The pained look in Sara's eyes spoke volumes to him, it would be a very, very long time before the two of them met again. Perhaps it would be years. Perhaps they would never see each other again after they parted here. He could die in any number of ways in the passing minutes, hours, days, weeks, in any of those lengths of time he would constantly be in danger, his life at all times only preserved by faith, prayer, and a bit of magic.

"Lady Sara, I will not fail you." Stephon said softly, "And even if I do, I will not forget you. Know that, and know that as long as you do not lose hope, I will preserve as well."

"Please be careful." For the last time the two pulled into a fond embrace, and after a short pause, Stephon pulled away, darting down the hall without glancing back once, for fear that with another look he would never be able to leave. A ring of keys jingled in his hand as he ran. When Sara pressed the flute into his hands, she had slipped him the keys as well. Stephon smiled, _Celeste may have to watch out. Sara might make a good thief one day. _

_**So, will Stephon ever meet with Princess Sara again? Will the Warriors of Light survive the Dungeons of Corneria once more, and what has become of Maric, Celeste, and Shane? How many more rules will Surfingpichu break according to the FFI canon before this Fic is through?**_

_**We'll just have to wait and see, won't we? n_n**_

_**And yes, Chocobos. It didn't feel right to write a Final Fantasy fic without them, so I shoved them in for good measure. I blame the theme song, that theme is catchy!**_

_**So, you already know what I'm going to say! Press that shiny green button at the bottom of the page and rate and review! It'll make a little red head really happy(and remember, I have cookies)!**_

_**~Surfingpichu over and out!**_


	16. Chapter 15: Things Left Behind

_**Hey there! Hey, guess who decided to update again? So, another long-ish chapter here, but hey, that's okay right? I.. I hope anyway. n_n; I keep saying this is the longest one yet, but seriously, it is. (I keep track =D )**_

_**Ahh, if only I knew what kinds of things to put here. Oh author's notes, you so befuddle me.**_

_**Anyway, Thanks to Zippy Zipper for some help with this chapter. In the end, I had a bout of enlightenment (yes, that's what I'm calling it these days) and magically knew how to work this chapter so that it didn't suck. =) Thanks for the help though. **_

_**Also, thanks to Antoine, CorynofHoole, Toxo, AlguLoD (I got your name right this time! n_n) and Emperor Zoron for reviewing! You all get cookies! Love you all! =3**_

_**So there's probably a fanfic you came here to read instead of all this junk at the top. I won't spend my time rambling then, on with the fic!**_

_**Chapter 15: Things Left Behind**_

It was a cool, peaceful night as far as Tori was concerned. After a long, fairly successful day, the young girl sat around a magical fire with the rest of the mages in her group. After Shane, Taylor and Cyrus had been removed, she had been forced to take in three new, barely trained mages into their ranks. It was an awkward transition to say the least; the new mages were all fairly weak, clumsy with weapons, and slow at casting spells. They had no organization to speak of, all of their tactics had to be altered, and Tori had to admit, though she had never exactly had considered Shane and Cyrus assets to their cause, Shane's skill with a knife, and Cyrus's crafty uses of low level spells came in handy, and had ended up being huge assets when combined with Sian's skill and Aye's protection. Tori had almost gone on to call them the perfect team. The only way they could have been better would have been if Clayton was in their ranks.

Of course, Clayton had to stay behind most of the time, planning ahead for the next attack. That was important for him, though, any more their attacks had started to seem more and more aimless. The longer things went on, the more Tori felt like she was part of a band of petty thieves instead of a liberation group. Most of the people they fought were peasants. They hadn't even gone near Castle Corneria in months. _Maybe Tellerman was right. We are losing sight of our goals. People are starting to complain now, no-one knows what to do anymore._ Biting her lip Tori looked to the three newcomers, _ I get worried sometimes. Clayton doesn't know how much people talk about him; what people say. It makes me nervous, if this carries on there really might be a revolt. The newer members aren't loyal, they would flee at a moment's notice. This isn't what the Brotherhood was meant to be. _ The black mage shook her head, _I really hope you know what you're doing Clayton. For your sake, I hope you do._

A heavy silence had wafted over the camp now. Most of the men were asleep, but the three newbies in Tori's group were huddled in a small mass, none of them daring to move or speak. Three pairs of wide yellow eyes stared silently at Tori. Even to her it was starting to become a bit unnerving. _Say something will you?_

All at once the crack of a teleport spell broke the silence, as a rather feeble and bloodied looking Aye appeared in the clearing, and promptly collapsed to the ground.

"Aye?" Tori jumped to her feet at once, rushing to the white mage's aid.

The poor boy was covered in blood, all down the front of his robes, not to mention in large spots on his back. His cloaks had been ripped open, as if by a dagger, and a partially healed wound still remained beneath the folds of cloth. His entire body shook, his breath coming in shaky gasps, accented only by the boy's soft sobs. He was in hysterics.

"Aye! Aye what happened?" Tori cried, trying to calm the boy down to no avail, "Aye!, pull yourself together. What happened out there?"

"He.. he..." The boy gasped between sobs, his lips quivering as he spoke, "He's dead! He's dead, they've killed him! He's dead!"

"What?" Tori cried, grabbing the white mage by the shoulders, "What are you talking about boy, speak to me!"

"He killed him! He.. he...!"

"Who?" Tori demanded, her patience rapidly waning, "What are you talking about?"

"T-.. Tellerman!" the boy cried out at last.

"So... so someone's killed Tellerman?" Tori finished. To her surprise her heart began to sink.

"No!"Aye looked up at once, his eyes fierce, and burning with rage, "Tellerman's the killer! He killed Sian!"

"Sian?" Tori repeated, staring at the boy in disbelief. _That's impossible. Shane... he wouldn't dare raise a hand to Sian, Sian would have him killed in a second. _She blinked, thinking on her words for a second, _Wait, since when is Shane alive? How is he alive? I saw him die! I was sure of it._

"Sian!" Aye wailed, despair crossing his features, "Ye gods, Sian! He's gone, Tori! He's gone!My brother! He's gone!"

"Aye... Aye calm down!" Tori ordered, looking around, "You'll wake the rest of the camp."

"What's going on here?"

Both Tori and Aye seemed to shrink in size as Clayton Vartle approached the two of them, towering above the two of them with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed disapprovingly.

"Clayton." Tori whispered, standing to greet her brother, "It's... it's Sian. Sian's been killed."

A wail from Aye followed her statement.

"Sian?" Clayton repeated, taking a step back, "Sian? Are you sure? By who?"

"Tellerman, sir." Tori replied, "According to Aye it was..."

"Tellerman!" Aye cried, righting himself, "He is alive! The wretched traitor, he's still alive! He's already started to plot against us, I'm sure of it. Him and that ruddy non-mage girl. He was at camp with a bunch of.... of non-mages, for the love of the gods! The boy's lost his mind, and if I have any say in it, he'll lose his head too."

"Tellerman..." Clayton cursed under his breath. He glanced at Tori, an absolutely venomous look in his eyes. For a second, he was silent.

"Do you know where they were headed?" Clayton inquired at last.

"It... it looked like Corneria, sir." Aye replied, the fury that had once fueled his words slowly dying out.

"Corneria?" Clayton repeated. A strange look came over the young man's face now. Not a smile, it couldn't be, for he still looked worried and agitated, but for some reason, he looked almost relieved.

"So, when do we head off?" Tori asked softly, knowing all too well what was coming next, "Should I wake the men up now, or should I..."

"There is no need for it Tori." Clayton waved her off. Tori frowned. Her brother's voice sounded strange, almost ghost like. It sent a shiver down her spine, "We won't pursue Tellerman any further."

"What?" Aye cried, looking about ready to strangle his leader.

"Tellerman will be taken care of in Corneria." Clayton said near emotionlessly, his eyes looking soft and distant, "There is no need to pursue him any further."

With that, Clayton walked away just as quickly as he'd come, leaving Aye gaping.

"No need to pursue him? There's more need than ever!" Aye cried just as Clayton disappeared, his hands flung up in the air, "He killed my brother! He's more a threat than ever and a killer to boot! What of the rest of that group, are we just going to sit around and wait for them to come with the Cornerian army and have us all killed?"

"Stop making so much noise, Aye." Tori hissed to the boy, motioning for him to sit down, "Calm yourself. I'm sure Clayton knows what he's doing."

"I'm sure he does too. He's letting the Brotherhood fall into ruin, that's what he's doing."

"Let it go, Aye." Tori growled, "This isn't the first time someone's quit the Brotherhood, and Corneria is still none the wiser."

"Not for long with the way this is headed." Aye grumbled, "Tellerman is with a group of non-mages headed for Corneria. What do you _think_ they'll be doing there? Why on Gaia wouldn't he divulge our secrets the second he opened his ruddy mouth?"

Tori was silent for a second. In truth Aye couldn't be more correct. Shane had no reason not to turn the rest of the Brotherhood in, and if he had a new group of companions then hope was already lost. The Brotherhood was already known. Tori shook her head. For once she was at a loss, even she couldn't fathom what her brother was trying to do.

"He's afraid, that's what it is." Aye was still grumbling, "That's why it's been so long since we even attempted to launch an offense on Cornerian troops. That's why we've been sitting idle, and spending our time on small towns. It makes us look like petty criminals, but Clayton's willing to make us look that way to make sure his precious neck doesn't get cut."

"You will not speak of your leader that way, Aye." Tori snapped. Aye flinched a bit, softening his expression and looking to the ground, "Don't you dare scorn the Brotherhood. I'd have your tongue cut out in a second if it didn't mean we'd lose a healer."

"My apologies." Aye's words were bitter. Tori could see why. She didn't blame him, he had the right to be bitter.

_We can't just stay back, can we?_ Tori looked out into the forest where the sun was now beginning to rise, _If we wait now, we could be killed. I hate to go against Clayton's orders, but I don't have a choice. And even so... even so I'd like to know what's become of him. Of Shane. _ her stomach twisted slightly. Standing she approached a small hollow, and drew out small sack. It didn't contain much, simply personal items, of which Tori had very few. A few pieces of gil, a spellbook that she had never finished reading through, but besides that, she had one long peasant's dress that she had come into a long time ago. For mages, they made good disguises, especially when you could dispel your hat spell.

"Aye, tell Clayton I won't be gone long." Tori said softly.

"What for?"

"I'm going to Corneria. I'll be back before noon."

Without another word the girl disappeared, leaving her hat and cloaks behind.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

For what must have been the hundredth time that day, Maric rocked forwards, peering through barred window on the door to his cell. By now he'd managed to position himself in just at just the angle so that he could almost see down the hall. Of course no-one was there. No-one ever was. It had been nearly two days since they'd thrown him back into the dungeons, silences, battered, this time shackled to the wall for what ever reason. Apparently mages were dangerous, even when they couldn't use their magic. That seemed to be the general sentiment, or at least, the one that Maric was beginning to see.

By now he'd stopped feeling anxious. The other Light Warriors were gone, he knew that, accepted it even. Stephon was probably dead, Celeste and Shane, they were probably locked up somewhere, the same way he was. Then again, who was to say they hadn't been hanged as well. Maybe they had simply forgotten about him. Somehow he had to doubt that they would let Shane live. He was a black mage after all. The same thoughts had been going through his head for a long while now. At first they had filled him with despair, with grief, with fear. Now he was just tired and hurting, and waiting to fade away into nothing.

It wouldn't happen for a while now, he knew that too, though he was sure he'd caught a chill from the constant cold in the dungeon, and the damp musty air that wafted about him. It was hard to keep warm, the shackles about his wrists did allow him enough room to wrap his arms around his body in order to conserve heat. Standing he could keep his arms close, but sitting down his arms were pulled above his head and after traveling for so long without much respite, he didn't have the strength to stand for very long.

_I almost wish they would just get on with it and lead me to the gallows. _Maric thought, dropping to the floor once more, _It's not like there's any use of keeping me around. What are they waiting for? That's their aim, isn't it, to kill me? _

_They can't, can they?_ Maric smirked, _That's the problem. Being a Light Warrior, and one of the men who helped save Princess Sara, I can't be killed publicly without causing controversy._ _None of us can. That's why they keep us alive down here. They threw me and all the others into some dark isolated cell and then forgot about us, just allowing us to disappear. That way, there aren't any questions asked, they can allow the king to think we've died in battle. The only person left is Princess Sara, but, I'd imagine they have a plan to take care of her as well. Perhaps she's been killed too, or will be killed. Perhaps she will mysteriously take ill, and die a few days later. Maybe she will recover, and we will be passed off as fever dreams. Either way, any way it happens, the rest of us all die anyway._

Maric gave a sigh, _It's not that bad though, is it? _He smiled lightly, _I mean, at least we all got to have a few last laughs, right?_ Some how the thought didn't comfort him. It near made him feel worse. _We were so close. So very close, how could things go wrong now? How could they? Things were going to be fine. I was going to come back and save Rachen and we were going to be free. We weren't supposed to have to worry about being thrown in a dungeon again. It wasn't supposed to happen this way, we were all so sure we'd done the right thing. _

Maric closed his hands around the chains that held him to the wall. He leaned forward, letting his bonds hold his weight as he hung freely from them. His eyes were feeling heavy again. Honestly, he'd spent most of his time sleeping. Whenever he couldn't sleep, he spent his time trying to keep warm, and trying to listen for something. Every so often he'd hear rats squeaking about him, down the halls. He'd nearly begun to envy them, they weren't trapped down here. Sure, they were hated and vile and lowly, just like he was in fact, but at least they had freedom. They didn't have to die.

A chill wracked Maric's body again. It was so cold. He was sure he was starting to develop a fever. Maybe he'd already had one, and now it was getting worse. Maybe this time he'd be claimed by it and die in his sleep. It couldn't be that bad a way to go, after all, he'd seen enough others die that way. His mother, his father, his brother, in fact any of his siblings that had been born in the winter. It seemed passive, peaceful, gentle almost. _It can't be that bad. Mother said it didn't hurt in the end. She said it was just like going to sleep after a long day. Just like sleeping._

All of a sudden the silence that Maric had grown so accustomed to was shattered. The sound of footsteps growing ever closer made him suddenly alert and entirely awake. He looked up, rising to his feet to look down the hall again. He could see someone coming closer, a man holding a lantern, his figure a silhouette against the bright flickering light. Maric's heart pounded against his chest. _It's one of the guards. _ He realized, his limbs suddenly growing cold. _Maybe they've finally come for me. They've finally decided to put an end to my life, have they? _ Fear suddenly spread throughout the red mage's body. He pressed himself up against the cold cell wall behind him, as if willing himself to melt into the structure. All at once he felt the need to get away. His hands had begun to shake as the footsteps grew closer, and the man slowly descended upon him. _I.. I don't want to die. _ Even now he didn't. Even now, when just before he thought he'd come to terms with it, he found he couldn't stand the idea. It ate at him, and made his hands shake and his mind go blank with fear.

_N-no!_ He would have cried out if he had a voice. He grabbed at the two chains that held him bound to the wall, and began to pull at them frantically as if believing he could pull the chains right out of the wall. He knew that wouldn't happen, and even if by some miracle he did free himself, he would still be trapped in the dungeons. He couldn't unlock the door on his own, and even if he could, he didn't know his way out.

At last he heard a light click. The wooden door suddenly began to swing open slowly, and Maric felt his heart steadily sinking. He closed his eyes, looking away and burying his head in his hands. _No, please, this can't be happening. _He fell to his knees, suddenly unable to stand any longer.

The figure lowered his lantern, looking over Maric cautiously.

"Maric, is that you?" An incredibly familiar voice asked.

Maric's eyes snapped over to the man again. He squinted a bit peering through the veil of shadows and at last found himself looking at a very feeble looking, but otherwise very much alive Stephon. Maric scrambled to his feet at once, relief flooding him. He nearly felt the urge to cry tears of joy.

_Stephon! _ Maric made to rush forward, held back by the chains about his arms, _Ye gods, he's alive. Stephon is alive! There might be hope for us yet._

"Ye gods, Maric!" Stephon cried out at once, rushing forward to meet the mage, "It is you! Thank the gods, at least one of you still lives!"

_One of? _Maric repeated in his mind, _Does he mean...?What's happened to Celeste and Shane?_

A light metallic click echoed through the cell as Maric fell the shackles fall from around his wrists releasing him. He stumbled forward, realizing only then that he'd been using the chains to support his weight, and fell to the ground feeling weakened, but free.

"Maric do you know what happened to the others?" Stephon asked, as he offered the boy a hand to help him up, "Lady Sara hadn't seen them at all, I was hoping you might know where the others are."

Maric shook his head fiercely. Honestly his mind had been on the same thing. Seeing Stephon alive meant they might not all be goners, but still, the most Maric could really do was wonder what had become of the two other light warriors.

Stephon blinked, staring at Maric intently, his eyes questioning. At last he came to a realization.

"You can't speak, can you?"

Maric shook his head.

Stephon cursed under his breath, "Of course he can't speak. Why wouldn't they silence a mage before putting him in the dungeons? Damn it all, just when I thought some supportive magic would get us out of here."

Stephon turned to exit the cell, "Come on" he motioned to Maric, and quickly darted down the hall. Maric followed as closely as he could. His legs were stiff, and sore from being held in one position for so long. It felt good to stretch his legs, but, at the same time, it hurt to run so fast so soon.

Stephon looked as if he was gripped with fatigue already. His face was flush from running, but Maric was sure he'd never seen the knight look so tired, nearly feeble, and there was a certain slowness to his movements that made Maric a bit uneasy.

Each step Maric and Stephon took seemed to echo down the hallway, resounding off the walls ad bouncing back to them. Maric wouldn't have been surprised if the whole castle could hear their steps. The prisoners around them certainly did. Dozens of pairs of watery, bloodshot eyes stared the two of them down as they passed cell after cell. Most of the men on this floor looked half dead, shackled to the wall, and starving to death. It seemed as though men who were put down on this floor didn't come out again. They were left to rot away and perish, their carcasses left to be torn apart by the rats. There were some men who's yellowing flesh was just starting to peel from their bones. It was a horrifying sight to say the least.

_I wonder if... if Celeste and Shane are like that. _ Maric bit his lip. He was certain he hadn't faired very well himself. Even now his legs seemed to shake with each step, his knees threatening to buckle. More than anything he longed for a good meal, some kind of sustenance, the kind of which Maric had been promised upon returning to Corneria but never got. _Ye gods if this isn't the death of me._

The two of them made their way through countless hallways, eyes constantly peeled, keeping watch for some sign of their two imprisoned friends, in what ever state they preferred, but each cell they checked was met with no such success. Their task was daunting, almost impossible by the looks of it. Shane and Celeste could have been held anywhere in the Cornerian dungeons, absolutely anywhere. Locating even one of them would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

All of a sudden Stephon stopped dead in his tracks. Maric nearly ran into the knight, he'd stopped stopped suddenly, and he could only wonder what had possessed the knight to halt so suddenly. A dozen questions brewed in Maric's mind, though his lack of a voice made him unable to ask any of them, and he had to be content to give the knight a quizzical glance when he met his eye.

Stephon's eyes were wide with warning, and he put a finger to his lips, motioning to Maric to back up and stay behind him. _It's not like I could say anything anyway._

A voice echoed from across the hall as they slowly backed away. No, not a voice, two voices, a couple of voices. In fact there must have been four men standing in the hallway around the corner, and it was only the shadows and Stephon's diligence that had kept them from being discovered by all four of them at once. Turning back, Stephon crept as quickly and quietly as he could behind Maric. He peered into one of the cells, this one empty save for a half decayed corpse who's hands had been bound with shackles. A pair of shackled also bound his feet together.

"In here." Stephon whispered, as the door's lock clicked open. The sound seemed to resonate throughout the entire hallway. Maric winced _If that didn't get their attention, nothing will._

Miraculously, nothing happened. No one whipped around shouting "Hey you!", or turned to follow them down the hallway. In fact, no one even seemed to care about what they were doing. Maric breathed a sigh of relief as he followed Stephon as closely as he could into the cell.

Presently the knight had put down his lantern and was unlocking the shackles from around the dead man's feet. _What on Gaia is he doing now?_

"Put your hands out." Stephon hissed.

Not thinking twice, Maric obeyed, and at once found that same pair of shackles now locked around his own wrists. Maric looked up at Stephon half confused half horrified. _He's gone mad. That's what's happened, he's lost it._

"Don't give me that kind of look, I have the keys right here." Stephon dismissed him, "Look you want to get past those guards alive, right?"

Maric nodded, not quite seeing how being shackled would help in a fight against four men who were twice his size, and twice as strong as he was.

"Look, if you hadn't noticed already, we're pretty much defenseless." Stephon hissed, "Neither of us are armed, you can't speak, we're as good as dead right now if we try to fight them."

_And this will help us because?_ Maric stared at the knight dubiously.

"So, I figured our best bet was to try to blend in. If I pretend I'm a guard leading you like a prisoner, they'll probably let us pass without looking twice right?"

Maric nodded. _That's true! Maybe this will work. _The spark of hopefulness that crossed the boy's face seemed to give Stephon a bit of hope too. The knight smiled, obviously pleased with his idea.

"Come on, let's go." Stephon urged, pulling him forwards rather forcefully.

He had no choice but to follow now. Stephon was pulling him rather forcefully along, and he couldn't resist, even if he had had a reason to. He followed Stephon obediently, keeping his head down as he walked in a standard prisoner's fashion. Maric was sure he played the part rather well. He certainly fit the image, and he acted in kind.

"And what would you be doing out here?" As the two of them entered the halls, the four guards from before turned towards them, looking a little suspicious. One of them, a surly older man, looked from Maric to Stephon a few times, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, sorry to cause a disturbance." Stephon's voice was casual, and in fact a little loud. Only Maric could see the hint of uneasiness that lingered in his eyes, "Just passing through."

"And what've you got _him_ out for?" the same man pursued Stephon, not entirely convinced, "What are you, talking the prisoners for a walk?"

"No, I'm afraid this one is to be on the gallows." Stephon replied. Maric couldn't help shuddering. Even the mention of the gallows unnerved him, seeing as one small mistake could easily send him there.

"At this hour?" The man's raised eyebrow poked up further.

"What do you mean?"

"It's nearly midnight." a second man replied, "We have the midnight shift, it's only been about an hour."

The color drained away from Stephon's features father than Maric could blink. For a second, he stood stupefied, his mouth hanging open, as he searched for an answer.

"I've never seen you on this shift." the first man commented, "Where did you came from anyway? Dressed strangely too, why chainmail of all things? And why aren't you armed?"

Stephon took a step back, fear frozen upon his face. He blinked, trying to force a smile and regain his air of confidence.

"Well, you see, I..." Stephon began, one of his hands sliding behind his back. The ring of keys dangled from his fingers and brushed lightly against Maric's shackled hands. Maric understood at once, grabbing the ring in one of his hands. _I have to free myself, and run, presumably to find the others. _Maric concluded, _But then what becomes of Stephon?_

"It's really a long story, I'm not sure if you'd really be that interested and.. Maric, run!" with that last command he broke away from the two darting away from the men at once.

"Hey! Get back here!"

Maric followed suit, struggling to free his shackled hands. Any dexterity he'd had previously had been robbed of him by the tension of the moment, he could barely hold they keys in his fingers. There were footsteps pattering lightly behind him, trailing along, and every second growing closer. _Ye gods they couldn't have made these blasted contraptions any hard to undo could they?_

Maric was gaining on Stephon now. Usually Stephon was a swift runner, but now he seemed to be a bit weighed down, and his movements were rather slow. His face had grown flushed with fatigue, and he already looked very worn. _He isn't going to last like this, neither of us are._ Every second the footsteps grew closer. One set in front of the other, but neither of them very far away. _One in front of one... _Maric thought on that for a second, _But... but there were four of them before, where could they have..?_

As Stephon made to turn the next corner he was met with two swords pointed at his neck, and two more guards standing in front of him. Two in front, two behind. _Well that's great. We're trapped and outnumbered now._

"W-well then..." Stephon stammered stepping back and trying to force a smile, "You're pretty fast."

"Indeed." the oldest of the guards stepped forward, "And why exactly are you out here, boy?"

"I... you … you see I..." Stephon stammered looking about either for a weapon to defend himself with, or for a route of escape. Unfortunately, he found neither. The man before him narrowed his eyes, as if daring him to try something. Stephon flushed.

"I suppose I should be plain, shouldn't I?" Stephon's shoulders slumped as if in defeat as he spoke. Maric felt a chill crawl down his spine, _Ye gods, he's given up!_

"My name is Stephon, and I am the firstborn son of the Carris family. My brother imprisoned me here, and has recently tried to end my life." Stephon spoke softly now, his words coming hesitantly, though with sincerity, "The boy I have with me is a mage named Maric. He and I are two of the four warriors of light, the group responsible for saving Princess Sara. The other two are still imprisoned here wrongfully, for they have committed no crimes.Please, you must believe me! You have to help me, my brother seeks to end my life!"

Stephon dropped to his knees now, his hands held as if begging. Maric took a step back, almost unable to believe what he was witnessing. To see Stephon Carris humble himself to anyone, much less to a lowly prison guard, it was nearly unthinkable.

"A Carris eh?" the prison guard sneered, "Stephon of the Carris family, of course you are. Ye gods, that's quite a story. It might have actually been believable if it wasn't already common knowledge that Stephon Carris is long dead."

"Dead?" Stephon repeated, despair crossing his features.

"Out of the loop eh? You look like you've been down here long enough not to know." the man smirked, "He died a few days ago in a riding accident. Training on chocobos. The great bird got spooked and ran him into a ditch. The chocobo lived, but the boy was killed instantly."

_Killed in a riding accident? That's the best they could have come up with?_ Maric wasn't sure whether to be amused to disappointed. Stephon himself looked about angry enough to bite through steel. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the prison guard.

"How dare you believe such filth?" Stephon cried, "Are you blind enough to not realize who the man who stands before you is? Why if I'd half a mind to it, I'd have every one of you hanged for such idiocy. No court needs such fools about."

"It's a good act, I'll give you that." the prison guard sighed, "but it's time for you two to cool it now. Let's let this go easy now, unless you'd like for me to end your lives now."

Defeat lay hard over Stephon again, this time twice as heavily before. His shoulders slumped forward, and his eyes for a second seemed vacant. He shook his head, drawing a shaking breath. Maric had to do a double take. _He isn't... he isn't crying is he?_

At a second glance he realized he couldn't have been, for his face was blank, and about as pale as a white mage's robes. He had an almost sickly look to him, and his hands shook rather violently. He pressed a hand against his chest suddenly, as if he'd been struck and he pitched forwards, toppling over onto the cool stone floor.

_Stephon! _Maric started, taking a step forwards only to have the group of guards crowd in around him, pushing Maric out of the way.

"Ye gods, what's wrong with him?" one of the men cried, "It looks like he's convulsing!"

"What do we do? We can't just leave him like this."

"Hang on, I'll check him." One of the men, a younger man, stooped down to Stephon's level, and put a hand to his sweat covered forehead. All at once a change came over Stephon. Some of the color returned to his face and his eyes, though still vacant, seemed to regain their focus. All at once his hand shot forward, grabbing the guard's sword and pulling it from it's sheathe. He pulled it back and stabbed the young man in the throat before he could even begin to react. Stephon got to his feet at once, a smirk on his features. Relief flooded Maric as his leader returned to his feet, his confidence restored.

"Damn it all!" the oldest of the guards cried, rushing for Stephon with his sword drawn. Stephon whipped around, parrying the man's blade and pushing him back, only for the two others to draw their swords, headed straight for the knight.

Maric sprung into action at once. There was a good chance he'd been forgotten about when Stephon had broken down, so it was easy for him to take the initiative to attack without being noticed. He swing the chain that bound his two hands over one of the guard's heads, pulling the chain taught around the man's neck. A throaty cry greeted Maric as the man cried out in terror and pain, squirming to get away, his hands clawing at his throat. It was difficult to hold him in place, and after a few seconds his arms began to ache, and the throaty gagging sound that the man was making didn't make him feel any better. Luckily that didn't last long, and after maybe a minute had passed, the man hung between Maric's arms, spittle dribbling down his chin. Maric dropped the man at once, wincing a little as he fell to the ground. _Well, that was unpleasant._

Stephon was cornered against the wall now, two swordsmen pursuing him. Stephon could barely get one blow in before he had to parry the other one's blade. Something told Maric he wasn't going to last long. After all, two on one wasn't exactly fair.

Groping for the keys Maric again struggled with his shackles, at last finding the tiny key hole that would release the foul contraptions from around his hands. With the click of a lock Maric found one of his hands freed at long last, if not a little bit bloodied around the wrist. _ I don't have time to spare, Stephon needs help, now._

Maric rushed forwards, the pair of shackles still dangling from one of his wrists. He grabbed the chain in his free hand, a thought suddenly striking him. _Well, I suppose anything can be a weapon if you really want it to be._

He twirled the chain a few times. It could work. In fact Maric had to believe that it would work just fine. Whipping the chain around once more he caught one of the guards across the head. The man spun around, a little dazed, with a trickle of blood running down his face where the chain had caught him, but it didn't stop him from lunging at Maric. Quickly the red mage pulled the chain taught between his two hands, catching the man's sword, and again, he swung the chain at him. This time, his attack was stopped by a parry, but in turn the chain wrapped around the man's sword. _Well that worked nicely._ Maric smirked, pulling the blade from the man's hands. He grabbed the weapon at once and sunk it into the guard's heart. He collapsed with a throaty cry, convulsing slightly as he bled to death on the floor. Maric looked away, prying himself away from the ghastly sight in favor of finding Stephon.

The first thing Maric saw was the knight doubled over, leaning against the wall for support. His foe was slain, lying on the ground as blood seeped from the many puncture wounds he'd suffered. Stephon seemed to be gasping for breath, his face pale and dripping with sweat. After a few seconds he looked over to Maric, his eyes cloudy and full of pain. At length he forced a smile.

"Are you alright, Maric?" he asked, as he pushed away from the wall, swaying slightly on his feet as he did. He took a few steps forward towards Maric before promptly collapsing to his knees.

_I'm not the one you should be worried about right now. _Maric rushed over to Stephon, offering him a hand up. Stephon staggered to his feet once more maintaining his balance with Maric's help.

"Come on, let's go." Stephon said, motioning to Maric. He stood straight now, the color returning to his face, "Before anyone else shows up. Celeste and Shane are still out there." he paused for a second, adding under his breath, "I hope."

Maric nodded solemnly, the knight's half whispered sentiment striking him to the core. He had thought on it before, but the realization that Celeste and Shane weren't guaranteed to be alive hit him again harder than ever. There was a chance he'd just been lucky, a chance that they had been killed the second morning broke the day before, and even if they hadn't, there was still a good chance that they would never find them in the aimless labyrinth that was the Cornerian dungeons.

"Here, you need to have something to defend yourself with." Stephon retrieved a sword from a dead guard's body, inspecting it momentarily before handing it over to Maric, "I'm sorry, I didn't find anything that could lift the silence spell. You're going to have to fight without magic for a while."

Maric nodded, though he would admit, the lack of magic was the least of his worries. Silence spells were terrible spells indeed, and more than anything, Maric wished to regain the power to speak. Staying mute for so long was difficult, especially when Stephon was nursing some kind of injury and, of course, refusing to tell him exactly what had happened. Now he couldn't so much as draw attention to it. _Ye gods, this is more frustrating than I thought it would be._

At last Stephon motioned to him, and he and Stephon descended down the hallway once more. The hall was filled with dreadful noises. The groans and cries of prisoners, some men begging and pleading to be let out, some crying, proclaiming their own innocence. Every so often ragged coughs would fill the air as illness slowly whittled away at the lives of men who had once been strong. It was more than just pity that Maric felt passing each of those cells. He wished for a second that he could open every one of them, and set all the prisoners free. Of course, that would call attention to them, and would take time. They would be back in shackles before they knew it.

Most of the sounds were masculine, Maric noticed. It was the groans of _men_ that generally floated along the musty air. It was because of that, that when Maric heard what sounded like the sobs of a woman echoing from across the hall, he couldn't help being drawn in by it. It was peculiar, especially in a place so inhabited by men, Maric couldn't help breaking away from Stephon towards the source.

"Where do you think you're going?" Stephon asked, "We already checked down there, there's nothing to see."

Maric stood his ground, inclining his head in the direction of the sound. Stephon blinked, seeming to entirely miss him meaning. Maric sighed, _Body language is so much harder to use than it seems._ Exasperated, Maric grabbed a hold of Stephon's arm and started leading him down the path. If Stephon wouldn't listen to him, he could at least make him follow him.

"What are you trying to do?" Stephon cried, "I already told you that there's nothing here!"

Maric ignored the sentiment, breaking into a jog now. The sound was dying out now, growing dimmer, though he was sure he'd heard it coming from this hall. Almost positive. He eyed every cell he passed, scanning for a sign of their missing thief girl. At last the cell that the sobbing was coming from approached, and finally, Stephon seemed to understand why Maric had led him out this way. Bursting ahead he ran up to the cell, grabbing a hold of the metal bars in the window.

"Celeste!"

Maric followed closely behind peering into the cell, fumbling with the ring of keys to procure the one that would set the thief girl free. Unfortunately, at a second glance Maric realized that the young woman sitting in the cell wasn't Celeste at all. She was much younger, light skinned and dark haired, her eyes puffy and red from crying, and she looked up at Stephon and Maric with near unadulterated fear in her eyes.

"Oh ye gods..." the girl whispered, "ye gods have mercy. Please, I don't want to die!"

Maric flushed, realizing at once that they had located the wrong girl. A feeling of despair settled over him. _Ye gods, at this rate we'll never find her._

Stephon was still staring at the girl, looking almost confused. At length he pointed a finger at her.

"You're... not Celeste." he observed.

Maric raised an eyebrow. _No kidding._

"Oh, good sir. You're not an executioner, are you?" suddenly hope crossed the young girl's face, "Sir, could you please help me?"

"Oh.. err, of course." Stephon said at once, grabbing the ring of keys from Maric's hands. The click of a lock was heard after a second. Maric stared at the knight in disbelief.

_What are you doing? _Maric would have cried out if he was able to speak. Reviling the fact that he still didn't have a voice, he gestured to the knight, shaking his head in disbelief. _We don't have time to stop for anyone, searching the entire dungeon for two people is going to be hard enough as it is! We don't need to go around looking for more trouble. Stephon, what are you thinking? You aren't even paying attention to me, are you?_

He wasn't. Stephon had near forgotten Maric's presence altogether, his eyes fixed on the young lady before him. The girl blushed, looking up at Stephon with grateful and at the same time awe filled eyes.

"Thank you so much, good sir!" the girl cried, jumping to her feet, "I wish I had some way to repay you but... but I..." For a second she looked troubled again.

"What's the problem miss?"

"Well, I..." the girl hesitated slightly, "For the last two days I've been conversing with a girl around my age, but of late, just in the last few hours, her cell has grown quiet. I fear for her, she may have taken ill and..." she trailed off, looking over to a cell on the far right, "Right over there I suppose. She would have to be there." she took off towards the cell at once, Maric and Stephon following hesitantly.

Stephon gave a slight start as he looked on into the cell, taking a step back, and Maric was soon to follow as the pair realized that the young woman that the girl had been talking about was none other than Celeste, who lay pale faced and shaking with chills upon the cell floor.

"Celeste!" Stephon cried, at once rushing into the cell. He undid the shackles around her wrists and gathered the girl into his arms, shaking her in an attempt to wake her. Almost immediately the girl started back to life.

"Ye gods, Stephon!" the girl cried, nearly stumbling back, "You're.. y-you are... You're not a jailer, are you?"

"And you're not dying of an illness." Stephon pointed out.

The girl flushed, smiling slightly, "Ah well, I'd expected that if I faked an illness the next time one of the jailers came with food, I could lure them into the cell, slip past them and escape."

"You'd be killed instantly." Stephon pointed out, "You know that's about the oldest trick there is."

"It's old because it works." Celeste pointed out with a smile.

Celeste got to her feet at once, without Stephon's help at all. For one being detained, she looked the most fit of all of them. Maric couldn't help but noticing that no-one had bothered to shackle her. _Bind the hands of the mages but not the thieves. That makes a world of sense. _

For a second, Celeste's eyes fell upon the other girl, and she looked her over cautiously. For a second, she looked confused, but all at once the thief girl's face lit up with the spark of recognition.

"You must be that girl." Celeste cried, "Victoria, you've been set free as well?"

The girl, Victoria, nodded, "Your friends here aided me. I'm very grateful for it."

"Well, Victoria, you certainly don't look much like a criminal." Stephon noted, "How did you get in such a wretched place?"

"She drew a knife on one of the Cornerian guards." Celeste explained, "He was acting rowdy and she thought to defend herself. Unfortunately the act was taken for treason."

The girl nodded, "It's a bit embarrassing, really."

"Well, come now, "Stephon urged, stepping out of the cell, into the darkened hall, "We don't have a lot of time, and we still have to find Half-Mage."

"Mage?" Victoria's eyes went wide at the mention of the word, "You... you have mages among you?"

"Well, yes." Stephon admitted, "Maric here is a mage too. That's why he's so tolerable right now. He's been silenced."

Maric shot a dry look at Stephon, only to be met with a smirk and a shrug.

"R-really?" Victoria frowned, regarding Maric cautiously now. She seemed suspicious of him, but at the same time, a bit too relaxed to really seem afraid of him. Her gaze seemed almost scrutinizing.

"Don't worry, he's generally pretty friendly." Stephon said at once, "You don't need to be afraid of him."

"I... I suppose not." Victoria replied, forcing a smile, "Well, I... I really must be off." She turned, her eyes fixed on Maric as she did.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like us to escort you out?" Stephon asked, stepping forward, "The dungeons are large. I wouldn't want to see you getting lost."

"I'm sure I'll be fine, sir." the girl gave a slight bow, and in a second she had disappeared down the hall.

Stephon's eyes followed the girl as she left. Maric watched her as well, but not out of concern for her safety. The way she'd reacted at the mention of mages wasn't like that of a normal common girl. She had seemed mistrustful, Maric almost felt as if he'd betrayed her. _But, what did I do?_

"She's half your age, you know." Celeste said, laying a hand on Stephon's shoulder.

"What?" Stephon stared, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You have an obligation to Lady Sara." Celeste pointed out, "I don't want to think about how Sara would act if she found you eying young maidens."

"Oh, come off it Celeste." Stephon huffed, crossing his arms, "Is it such a crime to be genuinely concerned about a young lady's well being?"

Celeste smiled wryly, "Oh it was her well being that concerned you?"

"Yes! Yes it was!" Stephon insisted, "What's your point?"

"Come on," Celeste sighed, "Let's go find Half-Mage before he worries himself into a coma."

"How?"

All at once all three light warriors stopped in their tracks as a terrible thought hit them. All mages looked more or less the same. Shane would be one of dozens of mages imprisoned in the dungeons, if he was there at all, and he would be silenced, so he couldn't cry out to them. Finding Shane would be nearly ten times as hard as finding any of the other warriors. A task that had once been daunting had suddenly become impossible.

"Well, we know that all the mages are generally kept on the bottom floor of the dungeon." Stephon noted quietly, "That should narrow down our search, but..."

_How will we find him? _ Maric shook his head, _They all look the same to me, and Shane doesn't exactly stick out. He is wearing one of my uncle's old robes, but who's to say another mage couldn't be dressed similarly. We couldn't even have him show his face, none of us know what he looks like. _Maric pressed his hands to his temples, _Ye gods, what do we do?_

Maric staggered back, _Ye gods, I'd have never gotten him into this if it weren't for those stupid crystals. Without this quest, none of us would have..._

All at once Maric's thoughts halted as he went back over his unspoken words, _The crystals. The crystals that glow when two they get close to each other. _All at once Maric's eyes lit up, and he seized his own from his coat pocket, thanking the gods it hadn't been taken along with his sword. It was already glowing slightly, probably from being near Celeste and Stephon.

Stephon frowned, "What do you want with that?"

Maric pointed to the crystal, frantically making signs in an attempt to communicate his plan. Celeste and Stephon simply stared at him vacantly, entirely missing his point.

"So you... you want us to use the crystals as a light source?" Celeste asked, retrieving her own crystal and staring at it quizzically.

_Ye gods help us all! _ Maric threw his hands up in desperation, and at last, finding no other way to communicate, grabbed the girl's crystal and brought the two close together, almost touching. A blinding light emitted from both of the crystals, and Maric winced, drawing them away from each other immediately.

"Ye gods, what are you doing?" Celeste cried, snatching her own crystal back away from Maric, "Don't do that again, it's too bright."

Stephon blinked, and all at once his face lit up as if struck with a realization.

"I think I understand. The crystals get brighter when they get close to each other, right?"

Maric nodded vigorously. _Finally!_

"So, in theory if we got close to Half-Mage, they would all light up, right?" Celeste chimed in, at once following Stephon's words.

_Exactly!_ Finally his attempts had come through. Ecstatic Maric nodded his head furiously, relieved that he still had some means of communication with the two other warriors.

"Alright then." Stephon said, starting off down the hall, "I'll stay a bit ahead. That way I can scout for other guards. I don't have a weapon for you yet, Celeste, but that shouldn't be a problem for very long, knowing you. Still, I want you to stay behind with Maric. One of you has a voice and one of you has a weapon, that should work well enough."

Maric and Celeste exchanged glances. It seemed viable enough. Still, Maric didn't like the idea of Stephon running so far ahead, and being the first person any guard would see, when he seemed to drained. How would he defend himself if he was discovered and suffered a relapse. Maric was still unsure if the first one had been real or not.

"Do you know where he might be?" Celeste asked, looking around.

Stephon nodded, "The bottom floor of the dungeons. That's where they keep all the mages, out of sight on the lowest level. It's a rather chilling place really. From what I've heard people generally don't go down there. A lot of mages starve to death in the dungeons just because they aren't fed, and the ones that don't are executed. It's not pretty down there, I'm going to warn you now."

"Ye gods," Celeste breathed, "Poor Half-Mage, the kid is probably scared out of his wits."

"Something like that." Stephon nodded, "That's why we'd better hurry. I'm just hoping he hasn't gone mad down there yet. He can be rather emotional."

Maric shuttered. The idea of Shane losing his mind wasn't quite so far off. He had seen points, fleeting as they may have been, when Shane would let his emotions get the better of him. He did have a tendency to stop thinking and act impulsively. It was unnerving to think he might be driven to such an extent. _Then again, I wasn't so well when Stephon came for me either. Perhaps it's a natural reaction to such a situation._

As the three of them descended into the dungeons their surroundings gradually became more and more hostile and uninviting. Cells were no longer as clean. Often corpses long rotted and gutted by rats were left practically hanging out of the cells, and the stench of death was ripe in the air. A sick feeling rose in Maric's throat. It was disgusting that anyone could be expected to exist around such conditions. _Ye gods, if Shane has been living in these types of conditions..._

All at once Stephon stopped in his tracks. He turned to the two other warriors, motioning for them to stay back. Maric obeyed immediately, knowing at once what had happened. There was another guard, or couple of guards out there, and Stephon had stopped them just before they ran into them. There was a white mage with them. They must have been getting closer to the bottom floor now, since the only purpose a white mage might have in the dungeons would be to silence a black mage. Maric shuttered. Of all the spells he knew of, silence spells would forever be his bane.

Stephon crept back along the wall, motioning for the other Warriors of Light to be quiet. Slowly he drew his sword, as did Maric. Celeste crept back behind the two armed men, lacking any protection of her own.

"Stay low." Stephon hissed, "If we're quiet, we could ambush them, but we can't make a sound, you understand?"

Maric nodded, taking a step back. They had a chance for a preemptive strike. If they could manage that, they would have no problem getting down to the bottom floor. _This is good. We might make it down there. _

Suddenly Maric felt a hand grip his shoulder, and the sliding of steel from out of a sheathe. Maric spun around his sword coming up just as a blade cut down through the air. The two met inches away from Maric's head. Maric looked up, horrified to find that two burly looking guards had crept up behind them, looking ready to cut the small team of three down.

"Ye gods above!" Stephon cried, staggering back as he drew his sword.

Maric took a step back towards Stephon, only to find that the group of guards that they had intended to ambush had crept up behind them. In a matter of seconds they had become terribly, horribly trapped.

"Good sirs, lay down your weapons, we don't mean any harm!" Stephon cried, raising his hands into the air.

"You were speaking of ambush!" one of the guards cried, "How on Gaia is that..."

Maric hadn't paused for a second before sticking his sword into the guard's throat, cutting him off mid sentence. Immediately the other four closed in on them. Stephon nodded. That was just what they needed. Almost instantly Stephon and Maric sprung into action, each of them fighting two to one. Stephon handled his opponents easily. He had no problem with parrying two people's swords instead of one, though he couldn't get a strike in edgewise.

Maric however wasn't as gifted as Stephon, and carrying an even heavier weapon than the one he'd carried before, he found himself in a terrible situation. For every blow he parried, there seemed to be an equally deadly one headed straight for him. Ducking, guarding, and flailing about he did all he could to keep steel from embedding itself in his flesh. Already his arms began to ache. _Ye gods, I'll be killed if I don't do something. _

All at once one of the guards beat back on his blade, hard. His sword rang in his hands, protesting the impact, and Maric staggered back, momentarily stunned. He barely even had time to register the fact that a second sword was currently flying right for him, much less think to get out of the way. He gaped, staring dumbly at the sword as it flew towards him.

The ring of steel on steel filled Maric's ears, as he looked up to see Celeste, bringing a newly obtained blade down upon the guard's sword. Swiftly, the girl reared back and struck at the man, her own attack being narrowly parried. Maric winced. He thought to help the girl, but currently he was occupied with an adversary of his own, as the other guard lunged for him again. The attack narrowly missed him, flashing past his back and tearing his jacket open. A little closer, and that would have been flesh. Maric shuttered, launching an attack of his own on the guard, and trying not to think about how close he'd come to being killed, or at least wounded terribly, in the last few seconds.

Attacks and parries rang in Maric's ears as he fought. This would have to end soon. Maric felt himself wearing down from the struggle already. The sword in his hands felt jerky and awkward. His lacking strength, coupled with the bulk and dullness of his new blade made Maric's movements slow and sloppy. With every parry he felt as though he was flinging the thing around, unable to control it. _Strike_ he willed himself, _ye gods, I have to strike. _Raising his blade high, Maric swung down, aiming for his opponent's head. The guard caught his blade just before it reached his head, and immediately glided down his blade for a strike. Maric flinched back, suddenly rendered entirely unable to defend himself.

"No you don't!" Celeste's voice rang in Maric's ears, as at the very last second, a sword punched through the guard's throat, and he collapsed, gurgling and writhing with pain. Celeste smirked, sheathing her blade.

At last a cry came from behind them, though this one was not from a dying guard. Instead it was Stephon, who's face had gone white as he collapsed to the ground. Maric felt his blood turn cold. _Oh ye gods, no. _

With a cry he lunged for the guard who now stood over Stephon, preparing to spear him through the head. His attack was parried, but a sweeping blow from Celeste knocked the man's head from his shoulders, and he fell to the ground as a corpse next to a bleeding Stephon.

"Stephon!" Celeste cried, approaching the knight.

Maric winced. The wound hadn't been fatal, fortunately, but it still looked rather painful. Apparently there was a chink in his chainmail somewhere, since the wide blade had sheered right through and struck him on the arm. Blood cascaded down his arm, dripping from his fingers, and he held the wound protectively.

"I-.. I'm alright." Stephon assured the girl, pressing his hand against the wound, "It's not that bad. Y-ye gods, hurts like the devil though."

He looked up at Maric with pleading eyes, as if wishing that the boy could speak so that he could be relieved of the great pain he was in. Maric shook his head helplessly. What more could he do? Without the power of speech, he was useless.

With a grunt Stephon attempted to stagger to his feet, only to be borne to the ground once more. He groaned, wincing at the pain.

"Why don't you two go on without me." Stephon suggested, "I'll be fine where I am."

"Like hell we are." Celeste shook her head, "We're not going to leave you here to be discovered and killed. You can barely stand."

"I'll be able to defend myself." Stephon assured her, "I need a little time to recover, but I swear, I'll be fine. I don't need to hold you back."

"We don't need to let you die here."

Stephon's eyes went soft all of a sudden. Maric felt a slight pang. He knew Stephon hadn't been feeling his best, but something appeared to be terribly wrong now. He'd been hurt badly, and somehow he seemed to know that even if Celeste and Maric stayed with him, he wouldn't bleed to death any slower. _I can't do a thing about it... _ a feeling of helplessness settled in Maric's chest.

"Hey, you!" Celeste's cries alerted Maric's attention to the young white mage girl, who currently stood against the wall looking horrified. The girl made to run, but Celeste pounced upon her, putting her sword to her neck.

Maric ran to the thief girl, reaching out to hold her back, before he realized exactly what Celeste's plan was going to be.

"Quiet now, I'm not going to hurt you." Celeste hissed in the girl's ear, "Your life will be spared if you cooperate._"_

With a whimper the girl nodded. The amount of fear present in the girl's eyes made Maric feel a pang of remorse. She wasn't a soldier, just a mage like him. It was likely that she was just trying to preserve her own life. She was a rather pretty thing as well. A red head with soft green eyes.

"Alright, first I want you to unsilence my friend here." Celeste said gesturing to Maric.

"I... I'm not sure if I would be allowed to.." the white mage began, looking a bit hesitant.

"I give you permission, now cast." Celeste said icily.

The girl gave a little whimper, immediately launching into an incantation. Honestly, Maric felt a bit guilty, using the girl's power to his own ends, but still, he did need a voice.

"_Vox"_ the girl spoke her spell trigger in a quivering voice, and at last Maric felt the effects of the silence spell rapidly leaving him. He cleared his throat, coughing slightly as the spell was lifted.

"I... I thank you." Maric said bowing to the young white mage. His voice still sounded a bit raspy, but that was nothing time wouldn't fix, "I know it wasn't of your consent but, thank you for restoring my voice."

The girl's eyes seemed to soften. Obviously Maric was not quite as threatening to her as Celeste was.

"You... you're a mage?" the girl asked.

"Indeed I am." Maric nodded, "And I assure you, I mean you no harm. Neither does Celeste." Celeste raised an eyebrow at him, "Well I... I don't think she does anyway."

With a huff Celeste released the girl from her grip, and she stumbled back, looking a tad anxious, but otherwise fine. She looked from Celeste to Maric hesitantly a few times.

Maric gave the girl a reassuring smile, and at once strode over to Stephon and lay a hand on his wound. The knight winced, trying not to cry out from the contact, but Maric worked quickly and before Stephon had time to complain against him Maric had called out the spell trigger. _"Cure" _

The healing sparks danced around Stephon's wound, but as they faded the gash in his arm still remained. It wasn't as bad as it had been, but part of the wound still remained. Maric winced. _I might have to use more magic than I'm used to for this. I haven't got a whole lot as it stands. _

"Would you like some help?" the white mage's voice came from behind Maric.

Maric looked up at the girl with a smile, "That's very kind of you. Yes if you'd lend me a hand I would..."

The girl didn't even wait for Maric to finish. She immediately launched into her chant, and channeling up her magic spoke the trigger, _"Cura" _ in a soft, half whispered tone. Stephon looked up, looking relieved himself, though perplexed at the girl's eagerness to help him.

"You must realize, I have no love for the Cornerian soldiers." the girl said softly, "I haven't got much of a choice being here, you know how..." she looked to Stephon and Celeste hesitantly and paused as if rethinking her words, "you know how the guard can be."

Maric flushed, "Ah, y-yes." he replied, suddenly a bit nervous, "I... I wouldn't suppose you would know where a mage named Shane Tellerman is being held, would you." he asked, giving a weak laugh, "He's.. he's a black mage, you know the type."

The girl's eyes went wide as Maric said this. She took a step back, for a second questioning. Maric's heart sank, _Is she that afraid of black mages? _he wondered, _Maybe she doesn't realize I can do black magic as well. _

All at once a small smile crossed the girl's fair features. It was a strange smile, as if she'd heard a joke that Maric didn't understand, and she nodded knowingly.

"I'm not quite so sure exactly where he was, but, I was sure I saw him in the third cell from the first hallway on the left." the girl replied, "I'm sorry I can't remember exactly where he was but..." a smirk grew on her face, "Still, I trust that you have a good idea of where you're going."

With that the girl turned, giving a nod to the rest of the Light Warriors.

"I won't hold you up any longer." she said at once, "If any of you need anything, I'll be here." she gave a little curtsy, "You've got allies everywhere you know. Remember that."

With that the girl was off. Maric stood, completely taken aback by the turn of events. Simply the fact that she knew so much was amazing, and the way her mannerisms had changed as soon as he mentioned the fact that he was a mage. Stephon blinked, watching the girl as she left, looking just about as perplexed as Maric was. Celeste, on the other hand, looked a bit nervous. Her face was white as a sheet.

"What's wrong, Celeste?" Stephon asked.

"How... how did she know Shane?" the thief girl asked in a low voice.

Maric blinked. He hadn't thought of that, "I... I'm not sure." he laughed, "I suppose it's best not to ask questions. I'm glad she was of so much help."

Stephon nodded, standing up now with little difficulty. His wounds had healed fully, and he seemed quite a bit more energetic than he'd been before. Maric was grateful for it, he had been worried about Stephon's health.

"W-well, come on now, you heard what she said." Stephon said at once, "Let's go get Half-Mage out of here."

Celeste nodded, the color returning to her cheeks. For a second, Maric noticed that the girl stooped to scour the bodies of the now dead prison guards. Maric sighed. _Some habits die hard I suppose._

"Hey, we've got some echo screen." Celeste cried out, holding up a vial of the cloudy green liquid triumphantly.

"That's great, now quit hanging back." Stephon dismissed the girl, "We'll deal with silence spells when we need to. We have to find Shane first."

With that the three took no more time, racing through the catacombed dungeons as quickly as they possibly could. They descended the levels quickly, making sure to stick to less obvious routes, until finally they landed on the final floor. The place where the mages were held. The light was dim and the air cold when they reached the floor. A shutter crawled down Maric's spine, and chilled him to the bone. It smelled of death. Death and dried blood, decay and mildew, and a steady dripping noise echoed throughout the halls. The cells were much dingier down here, doors crafted from wood that was now old and near rotting away, and the door handles had long rusted to the point that Maric had to wonder if they still opened.

The light was dim, dimmer than it was on any of the other floors, but there was a second source of illumination that lighted the hallway with an eerie glow. It took Maric a few seconds to realize what it was from. It was the eyes of dozens upon dozens of mages housed in each of the cells. Most of them seemed to have been reduced to skeletons, shadows of their original forms. Most of them didn't look like they could stand, and quite a few appeared to be dead. Unlike upper floors of the dungeons where the groans, cries and sobs of prisoners could be heard, on this floor there was nothing but silence. Every prisoner on this floor had, like Maric, had their voices taken from them. They were all muted, and only the occasional clinking of chains could be heard.

A feeling of despair settled over Maric as he looked around him, suddenly wishing he could bolt back up to the lit world and never return. _Ye gods, this is where they keep mages? It's no wonder they think mages are insane, anyone would go mad down here._

The three of them made their way down the hall, walking as lightly and silently as they could. It wasn't that they didn't want to be discovered, but it seemed almost sacrilegious tomake too much noise. The eerie perpetual silence seemed to almost forbid any man from breaking it, or else suffer a fate worse than death. Maric shuttered. _Being held down here really is a fate worse than death. _

"Shane!"

A cry from Stephon alerted Maric's attention, and at once he and Celeste rushed over to one small, dimly lit cell that Stephon was peering into, looking horrified. Immediately Stephon unlocked the cell door, flinging it open and dashing into the cell. Maric followed as closely as he could, rushing in to see Shane hanging limply from a pair of shackled that bound him to the wall. Beneath his tattered robes, a series of gashes lined his arms, all still bleeding profusely. He looked as if he'd been battered around quite a bit.

"Oh ye gods," Celeste cried out, "he's.. he's not faking, is he?"

"Maric, do you have any phoenix down on you?" Stephon demanded, freeing the boy's wrists, and taking him into his arms.

"I don't have anything on me." Maric replied, dread slowly beginning to fill him, "Ye gods, what's wrong with him?"

Stephon looked the boy over carefully.

"There are some fresh wounds here." Stephon noted, "It looks like he's been beaten."

"Beaten?" Celeste repeated, looking incredibly anxious herself, "But.. but why? Why would anyone want to do that?"

Stephon shook his head, "I... I'm not sure. Honestly, it might be my fault. There have been rumors about mage organizations floating about, and back before... before all this happened I did point some fingers at him and at Maric. If anyone thought Shane knew about one of them..."

Celeste's face went even paler at Stephon's words. Maric frowned. Was she still that afraid of magic and mages? It seemed strange for her.

A small groan alerted Maric's attention to Shane's small, battered form once more. He appeared to be recovering.

"Maric," Stephon addressed the healer, "get on a cure spell, now."

Maric nodded, not daring to waste a moment. A cure spell wouldn't heal him entirely, but it would help to ease whatever pain he was in. Judging by his condition, it appeared to be quite a bit.

"_Cure." _ After a few seconds Shane seemed to relax in Stephon's arms, his eyes fluttering open. For a second, fear crossed his features, and he flinched away only to realize a second later that he was among friends. His large yellow eyes went even wider in joy as he sprung up and embraced Stephon tightly, unable to make any other action to profess his joy.

"H-hey now, come on." Stephon said at once, prying the Half-Mage off of him, "Don't hurt yourself more than you already are."

Shane didn't pay him an ounce of heed. Immediately he jumped up and ran to Maric and Celeste, embracing them both. His little body shook, as if in sobs. Maric felt compassion for the boy. After all, who could stand being detained and in fact interrogated in a place like this?

"Here." Celeste offered the boy the vial of echo screen she'd stolen, "You're lucky really, Maric had to go through half the dungeons without a voice."

The boy downed the vial as quickly as he could, at once turning to Celeste and Maric.

"Y-ye gods, Maric, Celeste I... I thought I would never see you again!" Shane cried, enveloping the two of them in a tight hug, "I thought you were dead. I.. I thought you all had died, I was so sure of it." his voice shook with sobs as he spoke.

"Have a little faith Half-mage." Stephon laughed, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, "We've come through worse than this before. Why should a few iron shackles hold us back?"

Shane blinked, looking to Stephon for a second. For only a split second, there was a mistrustful look in his eyes, and he seemed to shrink away from the knight.

"S-sir Carris..." Shane murmured, looking a bit uncomfortable for a second. After a second, the look passed, "I.. I suppose so. After all, you aren't much like your brother is. He would have never been able to lead us to defeat Garland." He smiled reassuringly.

Stephon looked rather taken aback, but after a second his pride took over and he gave a haughty smile, "Entirely true Half-Mage, entirely true." he said nodding, "Yes, I'm sure any man could out maneuver that damned, back stabbing, traitor." Stephon's eyes darkened momentarily, "I'll pay him back in full, I promise you that."

Shane looked relieved at Stephon's words, and he nodded enthusiastically, looking pleased that Stephon was so angered with his brother. Maric still wasn't satisfied.

"Shane, what on Gaia happened to you?" Maric asked looking the boy over, "You look terrible."

Shane turned to Maric wordlessly, his eyes suddenly filled with fear. That fear dissipated after a second.

"I... I'm alright Maric." Shane dismissed him, "I... I'm sure I'm no worse off than you are right now."

Maric gave the boy a dry look, "We found you unconscious, and you still look just about ready to fall over dead."

Shane shifted uncomfortably, "I... I don't know what you mean, Maric."

"You look like you've been beaten, Half-Mage." Stephon interjected, his eyes hard. A shutter shook the black mage's body, and he looked away, "Come on, quit playing this evasion game. Who did this to you?"

Hesitantly, the boy looked up at Stephon. He looked unsure of himself, and a little bit afraid of Stephon as he blurted out the words, "Your brother."

Stephon's face went pale, this time with rage, as Shane spoke those words. Maric took a step back, nearly afraid of the knight.

"Talon." Stephon breathed, his hands balled into fists, "I'll kill him.. by the gods, I'll kill him!"

Shane gave a small shutter as Stephon reared back, pounding his fists against the wall. After a few seconds the knight relaxed, and he drew himself back up to full height, only a trace of rage remaining on his face.

"Come on, I'll repay Talon for all of this later, I assure you of that." he said turning, "For now, we must flee this place. We've stayed here for far too long as it stands."

With a slight sigh he turned, "Take a good look around you men. This is the last time you'll see Corneria for a good long while."

Maric nodded. Strangely, a small nostalgic feeling began to settle over him. He hadn't thought much of it before, but now Stephon's words brought him back to the reality of the situation. He would never see his home again. Any of the people he'd come to know, his entire home town, Rachen's magic shop. He would never see any of it again.

_Rachen... _ The thought of the old mage caught Maric's attention. He had nearly forgotten, his uncle was still being held down here. He looked around him. The cold, dreary dungeon around him was the reality Rachen had been living in for almost a week now. The thought sent a shiver down Maric's spine, but even more than that he had to wonder. _If they've been hurting Shane down here, what could they have done to Rachen?_

Stephon and Celeste had turned to leave now, and the light from Stephon's lantern was slowly beginning to draw away.

"W-wait!" Maric cried. The three other light warriors turn to him immediately.

"What is it?" Stephon's eyes were hard and impatient.

"I... I need to find Uncle Rachen." Maric replied, his throat still feeling rather sore, "I have to free him, I promised him I'd come back for him."

"Maric we don't have time for this." Stephon growled, "We've got to get out of here now. We still have to escape the dungeons, and we're going to need all the magic we can to do that.

Maric looked back to the passage, and then back to Stephon once more. _If I stay here, I'm throwing away my last chance at freedom. No matter what, Rachen wouldn't want that. _He swallowed hard. _Still, it doesn't feel right to leave him behind. He took me in when I had no-one else to turn to. To just leave him here to perish, it's heartless, it's not right. I couldn't. _He clenched his hands into fists now. _This might be my last chance to do something. If I leave now he'll be killed no matter what. He may already be... no.. no he isn't dead, he can't be. It doesn't feel right, if he was dead, if he really was gone, I feel like I would know it. No, I know he's alive._

"Come on Maric, hurry it up!" Stephon cried, catching him by the arm to pull him along. With a sharp jerk Maric pulled his arm away.

"I'm staying here. I need to look for Rachen." Maric said, this time with certainty in his voice, "If you don't want to follow me, don't. I know what I have to do, and it's no business of yours."

"Maric, you can barely stand." Stephon's voice was flat, "We can come back later, but not when you're like this."

"If Rachen's been down here this long, he's worse off than I am." Maric took a step back, "I'm not going to leave him here to die."

"Maric, your uncle is probably long gone by now!" Stephon cried, "We weren't even supposed to return, why would they keep him around? He was probably on the gallows the day after we left!"

"I won't believe that!" Maric cried, "The king gave me his word! He wouldn't be harmed!"

"How much say do you think that batty old man has anymore Maric?" Stephon cried, "Fine yes, I've said it, the king's gone mad! He believed _you_ for the love of the gods! You and your silly light warrior myth! Maric, your uncle is dead. If he isn't he's as good as dead. Just let it go."

"That's not true." Maric's hands were shaking. Stephon was right, he always was, but this time he couldn't believe him, "That isn't true! I won't let it be! Rachen is alive, he can't be dead, and I'm going back for him!"

"Maric please." Celeste's voice was soft, and here eyes suddenly sad. She lay a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't believe me." Maric shook his head, stepping away, "None of you believe me, but I swear it. Rachen is alive."

"Fine then." Stephon threw his arms into the air, "If that's how you want to be, then fine, go get yourself killed." He shoved a ring of keys into Maric's hands, "I'm not stopping you, go ahead, but hear this, when you're walking out to the gallows, you aren't getting an ounce of help from us."

Maric gritted his teeth, not daring to say a word as he turned to dart away down the hall.

"Maric wait!" Shane cried after him, "Don't leave! You can't! Don't do this, you'll be killed!"

"Let him go, Half-Mage." Stephon said sternly, "He's no longer under my command, he can do as he wishes."

"Maric!" Shane's voice was the last thing Maric heard as he darted into the darkness.

The air grew colder with every step he took. The darkness seemed to close in around him like a vice, and it was hard to breathe. Perhaps the air was thinner, or perhaps his fever was simply getting worse, but what ever the reason was, he felt terrible. A couple of times he found himself collapsing against the stone walls for support. _No_ He willed himself on, _I have to find Rachen. I have to find Rachen._

It smelled of death down on the bottom floor. Death and dried blood, decay and mildew, and a steady dripping noise echoed throughout the halls. The cells were much dingier down here, doors crafted from wood that was now old and near rotting away, and the door handles had long rusted to the point that Maric had to wonder if they still opened.

The silence was eerie, near otherworldly, and Maric felt as if each step he took echoed throughout the entire dungeon. If anyone was down here, they would surely hear him, but he could hear no other footsteps in the hall save for his own.

"Rachen?" Maric whispered, peering into each cell as he passed.

Each of the prisoners was chained to the wall by shackles much Maric had been. Some of the cells had cryptic messages etched into the walls. Things like, _" The gods still watch you."_ and _"You will not be forgiven."_ Occasionally one would simply say, _"Help me!"_ Each cell he passed housed a progressively worse off looking mage. Some of them had limbs or finger missing. Gashes were across their sides and whip marks from lashings. It looked like these men were being more than just contained. There was torture happening down here. _Just for being mages? _Maric had to wonder, _Why would someone do something like this to anyone? Why could something like this happen?_

"Rachen?" Maric called, his voice wavering and frightened, "Rachen are you down here? Uncle Rachen?"

A chill crawled down Maric's spine. Maybe Rachen really was dead, how could he survive in a place like this.

"H-.. Help... me..." A whispered voice came from a cell beside him, and he looked to see a rather beaten looking mage, though not Rachen, lying on the floor. His eyes were dim, glowing with only a faint light, and his hand was extended, reaching out for Maric as he passed. It was bony and skeletal looking, and missing a few fingers on top of that. It looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks, and a slight breeze could have made him crumble to dust. He appeared to be speaking through a silence spell, for his voice sounded forced and unnatural. "P-please... help..."

Maric approached the cell cautiously, his hand grasping the ring of keys. His fingers trembled as he fumbled to put the key into the lock, but as he turned the knob, he found that the mechanism no longer worked, the door was rusted shut. He took the key out, his hands closing around the rusty bars as he stared helplessly into the cell. The mage before him looked up at Maric with desperate eyes. He coughed a rasping cough and gave one final gasp before his hand fell limply to the ground. He gave a final shutter, and in a moment he was dead.

Maric stepped away from the door in horror, shaking his head. _N-no.._ He shook his head, _I have to get Rachen out of here! He might be like that! Oh ye gods! Rachen!_

"Rachen! Rachen where are you?" Maric cried, his voice desperate now, he looked around frantically, his heart racing, "Rachen? Rachen? Where..."

At last one figure caught his eye. The first thing he saw was purple robes. The mage inside the cell was just as battered as the others but this one was slightly overweight, though thinning now, and sat with his head hung over, slumped against the wall.

"Rachen?" Maric cried, his heart pounding. To his relief the mage raised his head, hearing his name called, "Rachen it _is _you!"

Immediately Maric unlocked the door and tore into the cell. Rachen made no reaction to his arrival, his eyes seeming to stare right through Maric as he entered the cell, or rather, one eye, singular, the other one appeared to be missing. Maric felt a shutter creeping over his soul as he approached his uncle.

After a few seconds Rachen's single eye went wide. He stumbled back as if fearful, pressing himself against the stone wall behind him.

"Y-you... it's.... it's not possible!" Rachen cried, looking upon Maric in disbelief, "You... it... it... it can't be!"

"Rachen, calm down." Maric said as he approached his uncle, "You don't have to worry any more. I've come to rescue you. You're going to be okay."

"Who.. who are you?" Rachen cried wildly, flinching away,"Who are you? Why have you come for me? What do you want me for?"

"Rachen, it's me!" Maric cried, a feeling of disdain creeping over him, _He.. he doesn't recognize me?_ "It's me! Your nephew, Maric. You must remember me, Rachen, I haven't been gone that long."

"That's not possible." Rachen cried, shaking his head, "That isn't possible! Maric is dead, he's been dead or months now."

"Months?" Maric echoed, near stumbling back, "Rachen, I've only been gone a little over a week."

Rachen made no reply, his head hung in silent despair. His entire body seemed to be wracked with tremors. He'd lost weight in the time he'd been imprisoned, and he'd become weak and near feeble looking. Maric wondered if he would be able to stand. His robes were torn and there were a number of freshly healed wounds across his arms and down his back, as if he'd been beaten several times, and he was missing two fingers on his left hand. Still, most of the damage done to him seemed to be psychological, and he stared at Maric as if he were an incarnate of the devil himself.

"Uncle Rachen, I'm sorry I left you here for so long." Maric dropped to his knees, a great weight seeming to pull at his limbs, "I.. I never meant to let anything like this happen to you, I never would have left you if I'd known they would do this to you." Rachen's eye met his for a second, but still they were filled with fear and disbelief, "Rachen you have to believe me. It is me, it really is, I wouldn't lie to you like that. I'm alive Rachen, I'm not sure who told you otherwise but you shouldn't..."

"I saw with my own eyes, Wyatt!" Rachen burst forward suddenly, rage obvious in his voice. Maric took a step back again, suddenly near frightened. _Did he just call me Wyatt?_

"Don't you try to tell me the boy is alive. You've tricked me like that before, but now I've seen him with my own eyes. I saw his cold lifeless form with all the rest of them. I held his limp, lifeless body in my arms, praying that he would come back, but he didn't. He didn't come back! He couldn't... he couldn't..."

"Rachen..." Maric breathed, looking on at his uncle in horror. _What have they done to you?_

"Uncle Rachen please, look at me, you know it's me." Maric grabbed his uncle's hands. They were cold to the touch, and clammy, "I'm not dead , you know I'm not, I'm right here, I did come back, Rachen."

"Wyatt, you aren't fooling anyone." Rachen turned away from him, "You don't have to pretend anymore, I know you've been here before. You just want to torment me again."

"What?" Maric blinked, "What are you talking about?"

"It wasn't my fault, Wyatt!" Rachen cried, suddenly fiery again, "Why do you have to keep coming back? Haven't I already suffered enough? I didn't mean to let him die, Wyatt! You know I didn't mean it, I'd have never put that silly quest in Maric's mind if I had thought it would lead the two of them to such a fate. If I had known, if I had ever known."

"You didn't know, Rachen." Maric said quietly, trying to calm the mage, "Of course you didn't, how could it have been expected of you? You were only trying to help us."

"But I should have known, Wyatt." Rachen said, his voice shaking with sobs, "I should have realized what I was sending them into. I was so sure I could protect your son when you sent him to me. I was so sure I could do it and repay you for everything you've done for me, but in the end... in the end I.. I couldn't..."

Rachen trailed off, collapsing into a fit of sobs and murmuring, "Ye gods,oh ye gods Maric, why did it have to be like this?"

Maric looked upon his uncle, a mixture of pity and sorrow filling him. _He's not going to believe me is he? _ the realization dawned on him at long last, _Stephon was right, they may not have killed him but someone... somehow someone did something much much worse than that. Even if he does still live, the man before me isn't Rachen anymore, and he's not going to recognize me. Not now. _

"Rachen, you did everything you could have, and more." Maric said softly, approaching his uncle again, this time with a soft, forced smile. He knelt down so that they were at the same level, and Maric slowly inched towards him, being sure not to move too suddenly, "We.. er... you all would have burned to death trapped in that magic shop if you hadn't intervened, or, even more, without your help, both Maric and Shane would have been caught and killed by the royal guard. And.. and before that even... Maric would have died long ago without your help, you know that. That first winter, after an early frost came and I..."

Maric swallowed hard. He'd nearly frozen to death the first winter after his parents died. It was Rachen that had pulled him out of the frozen death trap that Maric had thought to call a house and taken him in. Had Rachen not thought to check in on him that day, Maric was sure he'd have been dead by the morning.

"And... and your efforts ended up for the best you know." Maric went on, though his tongue was beginning to feel thick now, "I... all of the warriors of light... they're still alive for you, you know? They were successful Rachen, they won, they defeated Garland. Princess Sara is safe now with her father, and Maric and Shane Tellerman are both alive and well. Both of them are just fine if not a little battered and... and Maric is... is still searching for you right now."

It felt a little strange for Maric referring to himself in the third person, but at last Rachen seemed to be perking up a bit. He raised his head and stared at Maric, still not quite seeming to see him, but suddenly looking a little more human, if not a little more like himself.

"He's alive?" Rachen's eye were wide and mystified now, "but I... I was sure I saw... he was..."

"He is very much alive, Rachen." Maric went on, clasping his uncle's hands gently and giving them a small squeeze, "He did come back Rachen, he did, and ye gods he missed you, every day he was away he missed you and he wants nothing more than to come back to you."

Maric's voice trembled now. Tears were welling in his eyes, he wasn't sure how much more of this he could bear before it would tear him apart. He wanted to cry out to Rachen and force him to recognize him, and then bring him far away from this dreadful place and never speak of Corneria again, but he knew deep down that that wasn't going to happen.

_And he's right here, Rachen. _Maric added silently, not daring to speak the words. He knew he wouldn't believe them. _He's right here, and he wants you to come back. All you have to do is open your eyes beyond all this despair, and believe me._

"Maric is... alive?" Rachen repeated once more, "Maric? My Maric?"

Maric nodded. For a second he was sure he saw a flash in his eye, an old familiar spark that reminded Maric of the old Uncle Rachen he'd known and loved. For a second his hopes rose, _Maybe he does __remember me._

All at once Rachen grew distant again, and he sat back his limbs relaxing, "It doesn't matter either way, does it?" For a second his voice sounded a bit wistful , "The warriors of Light are still doomed to die, aren't they?"

Maric frowned, suddenly confused, "What? What do you..."

"The warriors of light." Rachen repeated, "They're doomed to die, Wyatt. You know that, no man who goes on that quest has ever come back alive. Why should it be different for them?"

"Rachen, that's not true." Maric said at once, "The warriors of Light will succeed, they've already succeeded in defeating Garland."

Rachen shook his head, "It doesn't matter. They're still... no man has ever come back alive from that quest." He turned a pleading eye to Maric, "You'll tell them, won't you? Maybe it isn't too late. Maybe if they run from it now, they'll be spared. Please, you must tell them Wyatt. You have to do what... what I can't."

"I don't understand. Rachen, what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to promise me you won't let them get themselves killed!" Rachen cried, " Please Wyatt, you have to!"

"I..." Maric took a step back, not knowing what to say. His throat felt tight but at last he managed to choke out a response, "I.. I will, Rachen, don't worry."

The older black mage seemed to relax now, the passion seeming to leave his limbs as he sank down into himself, " Then... then that means I.. I can finally rest easy."

"What?" Maric stared at his uncle bewildered. Again he was lost.

"Wyatt I've done what I needed to. If what you're saying is true and Maric and Shane still live then... then I have no more reason to linger here." He smiled a strange kind of smile. All of a sudden, Maric realize what he was trying to say.

"Rachen, you can't be asking me to..." Maric looked over his uncle again, shocked, "Rachen I... I couldn't."

"My usefulness had reached it's end, Wyatt." Rachen went on, "Look at me, I can barely stand, I can hardly see, I'd be surprised if I ever managed to do a bit of magic after this, I... I'm a wreck. I couldn't stand the thought of Maric seeing me like this if he is still alive. And... and if he is, that means that he can stand on his own now. He doesn't need me."

"I do need you Rachen!" Maric cried at once. He'd played out his farce enough, he couldn't play into his uncle's half deranged fancies any longer, he feared any more and his heart would burst, "That's not true! I need you more now than I ever have! I need guidance Rachen, I need you to tell me what to do, where to go, I can't make those decisions on my own. Rachen please..."

Maric was sure Rachen never heard a word he said. He'd grown stiff long before Maric had begun speaking, his head tilted towards the door as if listening for something. At last Maric found he heard it too. Footsteps, soft and steady, though growing ever nearer. Maric's heart sank, _Oh ye gods... they've come for me. _

"N-no! No!" Rachen cried suddenly inching back away from the door, his hands thrown up in front of his face, "He's coming back! He's come back for me again! He'll take my other eye this time! That's what he's done, he's come to blind me, taking one wasn't enough for him, now he's come for the other one!" He turned to Maric, an animal like terror showing through his now singular feature, "Wyatt please! Wyatt take me away from this place, end my life now, haven't I already gone through enough? Please, I'm begging you!"

He had collapsed to his knees now, his arms shaking with violent tremors, pulling violently at the chains that now supported his weight. He was shaking with sobs again, he breath coming in shaky gasps. Maric backed away, his hand suddenly on the sword that Celeste had given him. _There's nothing else I can do for him, is there? _At once he shook off the idea, _No! No that can't be true. I can still save him, I know I can still save him. _

"Wyatt please, while there's still time!" Rachen was crying. He pulled at his shackles now, as if attempting to make his way over to Maric, though he was bound to the wall, "End it quickly, while there's still time! I know I can rest easy now. Let me go, please let me go! Let me escape from this place."

"Rachen, you know I couldn't..." Maric looked upon his uncle helplessly, now. Even if he did get him to follow him, he couldn't walk, he could barely move himself. They would be caught for sure and they would both be killed. _I have to leave this place. If I get caught, I'll be hanged for sure this time, I must leave. _ He turned to the door, _But, I can't leave Rachen here. They'll hurt him again, I can't let them do that, he's already suffered enough._

"Wyatt please!" Rachen looked frantically from Maric to the open cell door, and then back to Maric again, "He's coming closer! Ye gods he's coming back! He's going to... going to... no! No I won't... I won't tell you anything! Kill me first! I'll die here before you get your answer!"

_There really isn't any other way, is there? _Maric realized, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, _I'm so sorry Rachen. I wish I could do more to help you, but, this is all I can manage. _He unsheathed the blade carefully, holding the weapon out at arms length. Even in the dim light, the sword glinted slightly, it was a good blade. Hopefully, it would do it's job quickly, and wouldn't hurt Rachen all that much.

_I promised you I'd come back for you. _ Maric said silently as he approached his uncle's quivering form, _I promised you I'd protect you, and make sure I did everything in my power to make sure nothing ever hurt you. I guess I didn't do a very good job of that, but at least I can make sure that they won't hurt you again. Ever again, now nothing will ever be able to hurt you again. _Already there were tears in Maric's eyes, _I'm so sorry Rachen._

"Wyatt please! Do it now!" Rachen was sobbing, "He's come back! He's come back for me! He's inside me Wyatt, I can hear him, I can hear his voice, he's laughing at me, I know it. He's going to do it again, Wyatt, I know he is, I can't bear it again Wyatt! I can't bear it! I..."

All at once Rachen's cries stopped short. Maric closed his eyes as he plunged his sword into his uncle's exposed chest. The blade slipped clean in, it was like cutting though cloth, he barely even felt the impact. In fact, he had to open his eyes to make sure he'd hit his mark. In the end, he wished he hadn't.

A large red spot was growing around the place where Maric's sword had lodged itself. A steady trickle of blood ran down the blade's cool edges, looking like little rivers that dripped off into a pool that was steadily growing at Maric's feet. He'd landed his blade right in the middle of Rachen's chest. It didn't hit his heart, but it was definitely fatal.

Rachen stared at Maric now, his one eye wide in near shock as he pitched forward. Drawing a shaky breath he managed to murmur, "Maric.. it... it is you... isn't it?"

Maric's eyes went wide at once, and he dropped to the ground, grabbing his uncle by the shoulders, "Rachen! Rachen you recognize me? Do you recognize me Rachen?"

"Maric.. I'm... I'm so glad..." Rachen coughed. His voice was strained and weak now, but there appeared to be a smile on his face, "Glad I got to... to see you one... once more..."

"Uncle Rachen!" Maric cried, his heart suddenly pounding, "Rachen hold on! There's still hope, I can get you out of here."

Shakily he started into a cure spell, but Rachen put a finger to the boy's lips.

"Don't try to fool yourself, lad... you've done enough." He whispered.

"You knew the whole time." Maric breathed, looking at his uncle in disbelief, "You knew it was me the whole time, you were faking!"

Rachen only smiled back. It was impossible to tell if that was the truth or not, there was a change to his uncle now. The spark of life he'd once had, though ever fading now, was suddenly present again. Perhaps it had been locked away from shock, and it took an even greater shock to jar him from his stupor. Maybe, or maybe that was just what he wanted Maric to think so that he could get away with a clean conscience.

"Uncle Rachen, why... why would you do something like this to me?" Maric cried now, holding his uncle's ever weakening form close now, "Why did you make me... how could you?"

"You've grown... Maric." Rachen breathed, combing his fingers through the outer edged of Maric's hair, "You don't need me anymore. I told... I told Wyatt... maybe... maybe he told you too..."

"No, Rachen!" Maric cried, holding him tighter still, "I still need you! I still need your help."

"You've already come.... come this far." Rachen breathed, "Don't worry Maric. I think you... you'll do... fine..."

"Rachen!" Maric cried, holding him up by the shoulders now, "Rachen stay with me! You're going to be alright, you have to trust me, you'll be alright. Just.. just let me... let me help you."

Rachen looked back up at Maric dimly. His breath had ceased to come now, and he smiled at Maric mutely for a second before his strength left him. At once any tension in his limbs was gone and his head rocked forward. Maric's limbs went cold as he backed away regarding his uncle's form, now limp and lifeless. The point of a sword was still embedded in his chest. Maric's sword. Maric had wielded that sword, he was the one who had put it there. His uncle's blood was on that sword, on his hands, he had killed him. _I... what have I done?_

"Rachen!" Maric cried, grabbing the mage's lifeless form, "Rachen! Rachen wake up! Please wake up Rachen, please! Rachen! Rachen!" He dropped to his hands and knees now, sobbing, "Come back! Please come back, Rachen. I don't know what to do. Come back."

_Murderer, I'm a murderer. _The words spun in Maric's head now, _My own uncle no less. He recognized me from the start, I'm sure he did, why couldn't I see through it? Why didn't I realize it. The delusional one was me. It was me all along, I'm the one who's crazy._

"Well now, you shouldn't be down here." A dark cruel voice suddenly pulled Maric from his thoughts.

Tearfully he looked up at the man, fear clouding his features. He was a tall man, middle aged and surly looking. He had a gaunt, chubby face and cruel eyes, and he had a scar down his right cheek.

"I wonder how you got out of your cell. No-one's supposed to know about you. No-one that is, except the ones who are getting payed to keep you down here." The man smirked.. For a second he looked to Rachen's corpse, and his large nose wrinkled slightly, "Eh, mages are even killing other mages now? What a world this is turning out to be."

Maric gritted his teeth, glaring at the man as his fingers closed around the bloodied blade beside him.

"What now, you think you're going to fight me?" The man asked, "That's funny. Almost cute, but not quite pitiful enough. I'll tell you what, maybe if you give me a good reason, I'll kill you right now and save you the trouble of rotting away down here. How does that sound?"

Maric didn't reply. He couldn't now, a fire spell was already on his lips, his words laced with more anger and hate than he'd ever felt before in his life. For the first time, he felt he really was thinking like a black mage, he really, truly did want this man to burn, to suffer, and to die. It would be only fair, after what happened to Rachen.

"What's the matter with you?" The man approached him slowly, "Can't you speak you stupid..."

"_Fire!" _

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Each path that Stephon passed held two torches on the wall. He was sure of it, though at times he found that he had forgotten to look. Every so often he was sure he heard footsteps behind him. The rest of the guards? Maybe. Maric returning to them? Perhaps. Most of the time it turned out to be his imagination, but who could blame him for feeling nervous? After all, they were in enemy territory, after all.

It was strange to view Castle Corneria as enemy territory, but as it stood that's what it was. Talon, his brother, once his comrade, had become his enemy when he had sided with the Light Warriors. Apparently, the castle didn't discriminate, even for brothers. Either you were on Corneria's side, or against it, and right now Stephon was feeling rather against it himself.

"Oh thank the gods." Celeste sighed suddenly. She was the fastest runner, thus, the leader of the group, " Look, there's a light up there! We must be nearly out of the dungeons."

Stephon squinted, looking around Celeste's figure. She was right, there was a light, though small and still pretty far away. Still, the idea of freedom at long last gave new energy to Stephon's limbs. Where he only seconds ago had felt as if he was due to collapse at any second, he now felt rejuvenated, as if he'd been hit by a cure spell.

_At last. _He sighed with relief, _At long last we'll all be free of these accursed dungeons. Thank the gods._

All at once footsteps caught his attention once more. He instinctively looked back over his shoulder, only to see that this time his intuition was right, they were being followed. Stephon stopped in his tracks, pulling his sword and spinning around.

"We're not quite free yet." Stephon cried at once, beckoning his two other comrades to his side, "come on, just like before.

Shane nodded, launching into a sleep spell immediately as Celeste burst forward, intercepting one of the guards, a sword held in her hands. She'd ended up being quite good with a sword, if not just a little clumsy, but Stephon knew that would improve with time and patience. Of course, it would always be slower than he knives, and stealth seemed to be the thief's favorite game. Even with a sword in her hands she stuck to her tactics of making a few light attacks before drawing away, dodging a few blows, stepping to the side and then come in again at another angle. It worked better with a smaller weapon, but even here it was rather effective.

This time there weren't as many guards. Only three. Their numbers seemed to be dwindling, maybe they had taken on enough of them that they were starting to back off. Stephon smirked, _And that's just commanding a black mage and a thief. You'll have to watch yourself now Talon, if I ever get my hands on a group of followers, you'll need the entire Cornerian army to hold me back. _

Stephon intercepted one of the guards head on, forcing him back with a powerful blow. The third one rushed up, his sword aimed at Half-Mage, who was still in mid chant and entirely unable to defend himself. With a cry Stephon thrust his sword out, throwing himself in the other man's path to bar him from the chanting mage. The guard Stephon had been fighting had recovered now, and was rushing towards him quickly, but Stephon had no worries. He knew that their little skirmish was already over.

"_Sleep!"_ The cry of a spell trigger from Half-Mage ended the fight near immediately. All three men at once collapsed to the ground, and Stephon took no time before stabbing one of them through the neck.

"Do you really think we have to kill them?" Celeste asked, frowning, "We let a lot of others go."

"We're too close to take any risks now." Stephon said, nodding in affirmation, "It's best to be safe." With those words he stabbed the next guard through the throat as well, and Celeste took out the last one swiftly.

"Right." Celeste nodded, turning to run again, "Come on, before more of them come."

The three took off towards the light again, panting and sweating the whole way. Stephon's legs burned from running for so long. Much longer and he feared he might have collapsed, but for now he preserved. They only had a short ways to go. Then they would be free. The notion made relief flood Stephon as the light drew closer and closer until at last the trio burst into the early morning's sunlight. Exhausted and feeble, Stephon collapsed to the ground by a tree his head spinning. The thought occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't as well as he thought he was yet. After all, poison generally takes longer than two days to clear a man's body entirely. Stephon had to imagine he would be feeling this way for a while.

He coughed a few times. He could definitely feel the fatigue in his limbs pulling him down. He was sure he'd seen better days. _This isn't good. It could slow us down, and what then? _He looked to the other warriors, Celeste and Shane. He could tell them about what had happened, but what then? _I would be making myself a burden to them, a sick patient on top of everything else. I've already done enough to slow them down, I'm the one that got them into this mess. Of all things, I won't be the one to slow them down._

Slowly, Stephon righted himself, standing to face the two warriors before him. They looked exhausted as well, Celeste's face was pale, white as a sheet even in the slowly rising sun, and Shane was bent over, breathing hard, his hand pressed against a nearby tree for support.

"We can't linger here you know." Stephon said at once, "We have to get as far away from here as we can now. Pravoka is about a five day walk from here, but I'm confident that with out efforts we could make it in four if we don't lose time. Come on now, it's a new day, and we aren't quite free just yet. There are still guards out there you know."

Celeste and Shane stared at Stephon for a long while, as if not comprehending what he was saying. A flicker of doubt lingered in both Celeste and Shane's eyes, and the young black mage looked exceptionally nervous, even for him. At last the boy spoke up.

"Sir Carris, what about Maric?"

Stephon blinked, startled for a second. Strange as it seemed, he'd nearly forgotten that the boy was missing, but now that Shane had brought it up, his absence was abundantly clear. _I suppose I could use a cure spell right now. I miss his magic already._

"We can't leave without him." Shane continued, worry in his eyes, "He could get lost, or captured again. He wouldn't know where we went or where we were going."

Stephon sighed looking at the Half-Mage wearily. _You really want to believe he'd make it out of there alive, don't you? _Stephon turned, not daring to say a word to the young mage. He would have to come to terms with the loss of his friend on his own.

"Sir Carris, why aren't you listening to me?" Shane asked again, "We need to wait for Maric. How else would we know if something went wrong?"

"We have to go, Shane." Stephon said softly, beckoning the boy to follow him, "We don't have the time to waste waiting."

"Sir Carris, Maric.. Maric is coming back, isn't he?"

The words cut Stephon like a knife. How could he say it? _"No Maric isn't coming back. We're going to leave him to die down there."_ It felt so wrong, but what else could he do? It could take months to find him down there, that would be like finding a needle in a haystack. It was suicide to go in after him.

Shane's eyes went wide now, presumably because the realization that he in fact never was going to see Maric again hit him now like a sack of bricks. He turned his fearful gaze to Celeste, as if looking for some kind of sign that his friend did indeed have some chance of making it out of the dungeons alive on his own, but was met with no such confirmation. Distressed he turned back to Stephon.

"Sir Carris, we have to go back for him." Shane said at once, "We can't leave him to die, Sir Carris, you can't expect me to just sit here and wait for him to rot away."

"It would be suicide to go back" Stephon said softly, "If we did all we would be doing is forfeiting our lives along with his."

"But.. but Sir Carris, you're our leader!" Shane cried, suddenly thrown into a panic, "You have to go back for him!"

"I'm no longer his leader. No more than I am yours. He chose his own path." Stephon's voice held an icy tinge to it now, "Let him reap his rewards. I have no part in his doings now."

"We went back for you!" Shane cried, grabbing Stephon's hand. The knight turned back to him, feeling as though the boy had struck him. The half-mage looked up at Stephon, a hurt look in his eyes. That would have marked the first time Stephon saw that much emotion in a mage's features, "Please Sir Carris, it... it just doesn't seem fair."

_You aren't going to let me live this down, are you?_ Stephon sighed, kneading his temples. In the long run, Shane was right. He was absolutely right. Maric had, if the stories he heard served correct, nearly let himself die in order to save Stephon from an untimely demise at the hands of the great knight Garland. That situation had been far more perilous than this, death was nearly assured to them then, but still they never once hesitated in going the extra mile to save Stephon's life. _I guess this makes us even, doesn't it Maric?_

Stephon sighed looking to Celeste, "You two stay here. No matter what happens, I don't want either of you following me." He looked into the woods, "I want you two to find some kind of clearing and hide there. If you see anyone that isn't either me or Maric, I want you to run as fast as you can. I don't care if they have nothing to do with Corneria, don't let yourselves be seen."

"You're really going to go back for him?" Celeste asked, a doubtful hint in her eyes.

"We need a healer." Stephon said at once, "Now more than ever, since we don't have the luxury of potions anymore. Unless either of you want to give white magic a try, we don't have much of a choice. It's either that, or, as a best case scenario, we crawl to Pravoka on broken legs."

Celeste nodded, though Stephon was sure she knew his real intentions. He was feeling guilty, it was obvious that he didn't want to leave Maric behind and that, for as annoying a mage as Maric was, Stephon would miss him if he died. As he turned to enter the dungeons once more he found the only thing holding him back was the fear that he might already be too late.

"Stephon." Celeste's voice halted the warrior in his tracks, and he looked back to the thief girl briefly, "Be careful, alright?"

Stephon nodded, flashing a quick smile to the girl before turning to descend into the dark underworld once more. He could have said something, but for the moment he felt that was all he needed.

The dungeons were damp, and rank smelling compared to the outside. Going back into that dingy, dark underworld from the lighted world above seemed crazy, even to Stephon. He had done enough crazy things of late to satisfy even the most daring, the most iron willed of men, but this would top it all off, he was sure of that. Escaping the Cornerian dungeons, the dungeons that almost always meant certain death, and overcoming almost all odds in doing so, only to go back in alone, tired, and still under the influence of some sort of poison to try to save the life of an annoying stupid mage who may already be dead. Weighing the odds that he now faced, Stephon realized at once that what he was doing now was much more foolish than the light warriors were in fighting Garland. In fact it was more foolish than anything he'd ever done in his life, or had seen anyone else do. Anyone else save for one person, and that was the person he was trying to save.

_Ye gods Maric, you had better be grateful. _Stephon thought, gritting his teeth as he ran down the hall, forcing his aching legs to carry him down the halls. His footsteps sounded heavy as they echoed down the hall. Now that he was alone he would have to be three times as vigilant and three times as careful. Perhaps more even than that.

The first two floors were relatively empty. Stephon moved through them quickly and quietly, sparing only the time to glance into a few of the cells he passed, knowing that none of them contained the mage he was looking for, but sparing a glance anyway for good measure. The third floor, however presented a problem. A problem that was made manifest by the three prison guards who were all standing at the bottom of the stairs. Stephon could see them from the torchlight that filtered up through the stairwell. _Just my luck. _Stephon slunk back against the wall, a look of disdain crossing his features. _I can't go down there. I'll be killed if I try to fight them. _ He bit his lip, _But I can't wait either. I've wasted enough time waiting around here. Maric might already be dead. Even if he isn't, he might be in trouble, I can't leave him waiting. _

Stephon looked back down the hall. About five soldiers that he, Celeste, and Shane had fought while attempting to escape lay in a bunch. By that time they had stopped thinking to spare lives using sleep spells. All of the soldiers who lay there were stone dead. Stephon swallowed hard. _I.. I suppose I could pass myself off as a prison guard to get past them. _He looked at the dead men thoughtfully, and then back at the guards below.

_No, that's absolutely despicable and immoral._ Stephon shook his head, _ I've broken enough of my own morals already. I don't have to go the extra mile by stealing from dead men like a common scavenger. Or... or like Celeste for that matter._

"H-hey, did you hear something?" A voice from down the hall asked. Stephon froze, pressing himself up against the wall as the two other guards stared up the stairwell, one looking near directly at Stephon.

"I.. I think I did."

"You think it's one of the escaped men? There are a bunch of them running around, they say."

_Oh ye gods, I've been found out. _ Stephon looked around in a panic. There was nowhere to hide, of course there wasn't. All at once the dead man's armor was beginning to look very inviting. _Self preservation first. Morals come later._

"Come on, lets check it out." One of the men was urging now.

"You mean go after him?"

"What else?

"I don't want to go up there." One of the voices sounded very young. A rookie, "They said.. they said that... that those men killed people. Lots of people, they're dangerous. I.. I don't want to..."

"Oh shut up and stop being such a coward." The tallest and broadest man in the group was yelling. Obviously, he was the leader of that bunch, "Come on, before they get away."

Stephon heard footsteps ascending the stairs just as he had fitted the last piece of armor over his chain mail. The work was sloppy, if he had had a squire or Talon to do the work for him he would have been able to strap himself in better, but for now, it would have to do. Donning a musty smelling helmet he turned to see the three guards standing behind him.

"Ahh.. ahh... Sir!" Stephon jumped, back startled for a second. Quickly he regained his composure, standing up straight like a soldier reporting for duty. A little acting never hurt anyone, "I'm sorry sir, I didn't realize I was in your way sir."

"What are you doing up here?" The tallest man frowned, looking over Stephon with a scrutinizing gaze. He seemed to be about forty years old, balding, and rather stout, with messy dark hair, and he carried a terrible stench about him that seemed as if it would repulse even Shane or Celeste, who weren't exactly very clean themselves.

"I.. ah... I'm sorry sir!" Stephon cried, searching for an explanation that would excuse him from further questioning. He would have to tread carefully now, this man was no fool, "I've been lost down here for the last few days, I'm afraid. I was being shown around the dungeons as an introduction and I got separated from my guide. I've been wandering around here for quite a while."

The man stared at him suspiciously for a while. Stephon knew his story had holes in it, usually people were informed of the navigation tricks of the dungeons long before they were admitted down into them. Stephon shifted nervously, hoping and praying that the man wouldn't question him further.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" he asked at last, " The hallways that lead out all only have one torch."

Stephon shook his head, "I'm sorry sir."

"Well now you know." The man said, his eyes hard, "Now go on, git!"

"B-but sir..."

All at once a cry came from down the hall, "We've found one of them!"

All eyes suddenly turned to a fourth soldier, who was running as fast as his skinny, lanky legs would carry him, his eyes wide with fear, he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Panting the young man fell to his knees at the older guard's feet.

"What? Found one of who?" The man demanded, his voice seeming to cut through the skinny prison guard.

"The... The mages. One of them escaped!." the young man panted, fear obvious in his eyes, "He's down stairs. They... They say he's killed a man. I.. I didn't know what to do so.. so I..."

"One of the mages escaped?" Suddenly the older guard's otherwise hard, harsh face went white with terror, "How.. how can that be? They silenced them all, every single one of them."

"He was speaking sir! I'm not sure how he got out but he did and... and..." The young soldier was near in hysterics, "Ye gods, it's worse than.. than anything I've seen before. He's.. he's got a blade! He was crazed sir, talking to himself and... and stabbing a man, I... I couldn't tell who it was. I ran sir, I didn't know what to do, so I ran!"

Stephon's eyes went wide, _They couldn't be talking about Maric, could they? _ Stephon's heart was pounding. Up until now all he'd worried about was the thought of bringing Maric back to the warriors as a corpse. He'd never considered the fact that he may have realized that his uncle really had been put to death, and fallen into a state of despair. _ This might make things complicated. _

"Calm down boy." The older guard barked. At once the soldier quivered, and righted himself immediately, "It's just one mage. This isn't the first time one of them's gotten out."

He turned to one of his ranks, "Get one of them blasted white mages down here." He barked, "We're going to need to silence him first before we get close. We'll head him off now before he can get away. Don't hesitate to kill him if you can. Actually, I'd say kill regardless. One less mage is always better I say."

Stephon stared at the man, white faced, not knowing what to do. With luck, he'd be lead right to Maric, but what then? He would have a chance to attack from behind, but what if when he got there, someone else had already finished him off? Worse, what if Maric attacked him? What could he do? He couldn't fight Maric.

"You okay boy?" The old guard turned to him. Even when he was attempting to be comforting, his voice was loud and intimidating.

"I... ah.. yes sir!" Stephon said at once, "Just fine sir."

"You ought to sit out of this one, boy." The guard said, "Mages can be nasty things. Can kill you with a word."

"No." Stephon said at once, "I'll go with you. I'm not afraid sir."

The man laughed, "Kid has guts." He put a meaty hand on Stephon's shoulder, "I like that, boy. What's your name?"

Stephon froze. He couldn't tell him his real name, that might tip him off as to what his true identity was. Fumbling for his words he said the first name that came to mind, "Ah.. Maric, sir."

"Maric." The man repeated, "Sounds like a mage's name, boy."

Stephon flushed, mentally kicking himself. _Ye gods, why Maric? Why would I pick Maric of all names? _"I'm sorry sir, that's what my mother named me."

"Just as well." The man sighed, "Alright, come on Maric, let's go find us a mage."

Stephon shuttered. It felt strange being called by Maric's name. As if he was taking a part of the mage's identity away with it. Still, all he could feel was nervous. For some reason he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that he was going to find Maric already dead. And what then? What would he do then? How could he face the other warriors of light then? He'd practically _told_ Maric to go get himself killed. _Oh ye gods, Maric. Please be alive._

They ran down the halls in near complete silence, rapidly descending stairs, and being led deeper and deeper into the heart of the Cornerian dungeons. It got colder and more dank and dreary as they went, and gradually Stephon found that each hallways was getting more and more filthy and unkempt. There were corpses still hanging in some of the cells days, even weeks old and starting to rot. In some cases rats had begun to eat away at the decaying flesh of some of the prisoners, and maggots had made homes in the bodies of what once had been men. Stephon shuttered, _That could have been me. That could have been all of us. _

At last they arrived on the bottom floor. The smell of death pervaded the halls more than anything, and an eerie glow accompanied the steady flicker of torchlight that usually lit the area. Mage's eyes illuminated the hall near as much as the torches did, if not more. Stephon gave a shutter. Even if they all looked the same, Stephon knew they were all men now, just as alive as he was, just as human.

"You three go ahead." The leader of the guards commanded, is voice strong as ever, "I need a moment with this rookie, alright?" He motioned to Stephon. The three nodded disappearing down the halls without a second glance backwards.

For a second the man was silent, and a tense hush fell over the two of them. The only thing that could be heard was the occasional clinking of chains.

"Sir, you don't have to be worried about me." Stephon started after a few seconds, "I can hold my own, I've fought against mages before, I.."

Near immediately something flashed in the prison guard's eyes. He looked up, a smirk on his face as he grabbed Stephon by the neck, holding him down and pointing a sword at his throat.

"S-sir?" Stephon stuttered, more surprised than anything. He gave a weak struggle, his hands tugging at the man's arm to pry himself from his horrid grip, but the guard was strong, and held him tight. _What is the meaning of this?_

"You can drop the act _Carris_ your little charade is over." the man growled, "Come on now, if you come quietly you'll make this a lot easier on yourself."

"S-sir what are you talking about?" Stephon cried, his face flushed. He did want to give up his act yet, maybe he could still make the man doubt himself.

"Oh come off it Carris, anyone with eyes could tell it was you. What did you think I was, born yesterday?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Stephon asked at last, twisting his head to look up at the man, "If you know who I am, you know I've been imprisoned here wrongly. Now unhand me, or I'll see to it that my father has you hanged."

"Your father?" the man snorted, " Your father is the reason I'm down here. To keep an eye on you until morning. I didn't think you'd give us all this much trouble. Boy, it's you who's head is set to be on the gallows. Actually I'd say it's more like the chopping block, from what I heard they wanted your death to be dignified. Privately of course, no audience save for the family. Wouldn't want too many people talking."

"What is the meaning of this?" Stephon cried, his arms flailing out, groping for his sword, "What vile source have these dirty rumors been flowing from?"

"Why, they're not rumors boy!" The man cried, "Most no-one knows you've even set foot on Cornerian soil. Most think you were killed on the way over to kill Garland, or disappeared, either or. No, only a select few who's palms have been graced with enough silver to keep their mouthes shut know you're even alive. I didn't ask questions, after all, you'll be dead soon enough."

"You're a liar!" Stephon growled. At last his hand closed around his sword and he swiftly made a cut at the older guard's large muscular leg. The man cried out, dropping Stephon at once as he doubled back, holding his now torn calf, blood dribbling down his leg and his hands.

The man looked up at him, rage in his eyes, "I was supposed to keep you alive." He growled, "but I figure it won't matter in a few hours. Maybe old Antoine won't mind if I do the job for him. It'll save him some hassle."

With a cry Stephon dodged a feral blow from the man. His movements were fast and his blows powerful, but he was slowed down by his bulk, and Stephon was able to move out of the way much faster than his foe could deal them out. After a few exchanges of steel, Stephon was already beginning to feel worn. For a second, he near dropped his weapon, panting. His lungs were on fire, he could barely breathe. _I... I can't keep this up... _ He realized, as he narrowly dodged a straight lunge from his bulky, seasoned opponent. The man was strong, and powerful with his sword, but Stephon had to remember, he'd fought a far more fearsome swordsman than this man could ever hope to be. He tightened his hands around the hilt of his sword, ignoring the slight burning feeling that still shot from the cuts on his hands. _I will not lose here. _

With a cry Stephon summoned the rest of the energy he had left, hefting his weapon back into the air as he ran at the guard. His muscles protested all the way, but his mind wouldn't let him care about that for long. The man in turn held his sword aloft, charging for Stephon with the same fervor that the young knight charged at him. At the last second, Stephon dodged to the side, and bringing his blade around, made a wild swing at the man's head. In the next second Stephon collapsed to the ground panting, and exhausted. The old guard's head rolled to a stop on the floor next to him, his body following a second later.

For a second Stephon found that his breath had left him. In spite of how hard he panted, it felt like no air was getting through to his lungs, or for whatever air did get through, it just floated there uselessly. His limbs shook, supporting his weight on the ground, and he'd broken into a cold sweat again. For a second the world looked hazy and he feared that he would pass out again. After a second the feeling passed, and Stephon could breathe again. _Ye gods... Talon, you're going to kill me yet, aren't you?_

He righted himself shakily, looking down the pathway before him. The other guards had long disappeared down that passage. If he was lucky, when he reached Maric, wherever he was, he would still be breathing. If he was incredibly lucky, still conscious, but that didn't seem very likely, especially with the kind of luck Stephon had been having of late. If this situation was going to be anything like what he'd been through for the last few days, he would stumble across Maric just in time to see the boy get stabbed through the chest. Stephon shuttered, _Maric, please be alive._

Biting his lip Stephon continued down the hallway, half pushing to get to his lost friend as soon as possible, and half afraid of what he might see when he found him.

"Everyone stay back!" down the hall someone was shouting, "Easy now, if you come quietly we won't have to kill you."

Stephon's hear gave a leap. _Maric! If they're talking to him, that must mean he's still alive!_

At once Stephon launched into a sprint, straining to reach the now cornered mage as quickly as he could. The boy had been backed into a wall, next to an open cell. He was easy to pick out even in the dim light by his bright red clothes, but something in his stance made him seem different. If he was dressed like a typical mage, Stephon might have passed right by him.

"Kill me first!" Maric cried, his sword gripped in both his hands as he stared at the three men now surrounding him, "You'll have to drag away my cold, lifeless body if you want me! You'll have to kill me!"

He lunged at one of the men only for his attack to be parried. In a second he was knocked back, one man grabbed his armed hand and twisted it behind his back. His sword clattered to the floor, and another man clamped a hand around his mouth to prevent him from calling a spell. _Ye gods they'll kill him_.

Stephon didn't even think to wait another second. He saw the flash of a sword being drawn, presumably to spear Maric through the heart, but in the next second it was the prison guard who had a sword sticking from his gut. And Stephon took no time in stabbing one of the men who was holding Maric while the other took off, running as fast as he could down the hall. Stephon smirked, _Serves them right, the cowards._

Stephon's attention turned to the red mage now, who had presently collapsed to the ground, and was staring at the wall with wide frightened eyes. His hands shook with tremors, and his breath was coming in short gasps, even though he hadn't so much as suffered a scratch from the encounter. Stephon had never been good at guessing the mental states of people, but he looked as if he was in shock.

"Maric?" Stephon kept his voice as soft and steady as he could, approaching the boy cautiously. A second ago he had been feral and aggressive, Stephon had to imagine it wouldn't take much to push him back into that mindset once more.

Maric didn't make a reaction. He didn't even blink. His eyes were fixed on the wall before him, the fact that he was still breathing the only indication that he was still alive. That and the fact that he was mumbling something near inaudibly under his breath.

"Maric? Are you alright?" Stephon asked again, kneeling down to get on level with the boy. Again he was met with no reaction, "Come on, get a hold of yourself. What's wrong with you?"

He took the boy by his shoulders and gave him a little shake but still he didn't respond. His eyes were still fixed on the same spot, he didn't even acknowledge Stephon's presence. At length he sighed, standing. _The boy's cracked, there's no two ways about it. _He looked around, _I don't really have time to wait for him to come around, but, what other choice do I have? I wonder what got him like this anyway?_

He looked around. The first thing Stephon saw, other than the two other dead prison guards, was a third man, lying in the open cell doorway who's face was burnt black to the point where he was no longer recognizable as a man. His body was torn open, as if he'd been stabbed quite a few times, and his entrails had been dragged about and strewn across the floor. Both his eyes had been gouged out. One lay on the ground next to him, still raw, bloody and rather bloodshot, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The other one was missing, strangely. A strangely morbid curiosity picked at Stephon, though his stomach churned as he thought of all the things that could have happened to the other eye.

Slowly, he peered into the open cell door. The floor was coated with a mat of freshly spilled blood, partially from the guard, and partially from what appeared to be a dead mage, who sat limply against the wall, his hat laying at his side. He had once been a stout man with a rounded face, but despite that contrast, his brow and nose resembled Maric's quite a bit, and his hair was copper colored, though still rather dark. The thing that caught Stephon's attention, though, were his eyes. Upon closer inspection he found that one was the same color as Maric's, though it had long gone hazy with the look of death, but the other one didn't quite fit. It was dark brown in color, the same as the other one that lay next to the dead guard, and it looked almost as if it had been shoved into a previously empty eye socket in order to replace a missing one. All at once Stephon felt sick to his stomach, _Ye gods Maric, what have you done?_

Slowly Stephon walked out of the cell once more, and approached Maric again, his heart suddenly pounding. It took him a moment to realize that he was near beginning to feel afraid of Maric. He would have never thought that he would do something so deranged and strange, almost cruel.

The red mage had brought his knees up to his chest now, though he was still in the same position, staring at the same spot on the wall, his eyes still wide with fear. After a second he blinked, and his head turned slowly to face Stephon, though he still looked as if he was half in a stupor.

"Stephon..." he whispered. His voice sounded strange, and hoarse, choked with sobs, "What... what's the matter with me?"

Stephon was taken by surprise by the question. In truth that had been his question as well. Getting a closer look at the boy, he noticed that one of his eyes was entirely bloodshot as well. His eyes were puffy, as if he'd been crying, but specifically, his left eye looked as if he'd been rubbing it violently. Rubbing at it or... clawing? Upon closer inspection Stephon realized there were a number of cuts around it already, still bleeding, and part of his face had been rubbed raw. Eyes wide the boy raised his hand to his face again.

"Ye gods get a hold of yourself Maric!" Stephon cried, rushing in to grab the boy's hands.

Maric looked at him incredulously, as if he didn't know what he'd done wrong. All of a suddenly his eyes went fierce and a snarl grew on his lips as he struggled to relieve himself of Stephon's grip. He gave a throaty, feral cry, trying to pry his hand away from Stephon, but the knight held him fast. He'd always been stronger than Maric, and now was no exception.

"You're going to blind yourself you blasted idiot!" Stephon cried, " Quit struggling, will you?"

"It's for Uncle Rachen! I'll give it to Rachen!" Maric cried, his voice still high and frightened, "He needs it to come back! They took it from him, so I'll give him mine! Let me go!"

"What are you talking about?" Stephon cried,

"I killed him!" Maric carried on, thrashing as he did, "I killed him! He made me! I didn't have a choice! I told him I couldn't but I did! He knew it was me the whole time, Stephon, I know he knew it was me! He was pretending and I killed him! I could have saved him, and I killed him! I'm a murderer Stephon! Help me, Stephon, I don't want to be a murderer! I didn't mean it Stephon! I didn't mean it!"

He was struggling and writhing and crying out as tears streamed down his face. _Ye gods, he's lost his mind. He's lost it, completely lost it. _Stephon shook his head, _I'm not going to be able to sort this out here, am I?_

"Let go of me!" Maric was crying again, "Unhand me now, don't think I wouldn't kill you! I already killed my uncle, nothing's stopping me from ending your sorry life too!"

At once the boy launched into a fire spell, his words coming faster than ever. Stephon let go of the boy's wrists, and at once pulled his sword and cracked the red mage over the head with it's pommel before he could even get half way through his chant. The boy toppled over, unconscious, and the spell died on his lips. _Well, this is one way to solve a problem. _ Stephon sighed, as he stooped down to grab the boy around the waist, and then haul him over his shoulder. He was rather light, though quite a bit heavier than Half-mage and Lady Sara. Still, it was going to be a chore to drag him out of the dungeons like this, especially since there were still guards looking out for him at just about every corner. He would have to take an alternate route, straying from the main path, and making sure that he didn't run into any other prison guards along the way. _You had better be grateful for this, Maric. _Stephon noted mentally as he took off running back down the hall. _I guess this makes us even now, but I swear, this is the last time._

_**So, this chapter ends on a bit of a depressing note. Or at least, I thought it was depressing. I got the idea up to have Rachen killed pretty early on, and I debated it in my head for a long time. Eventually I decided if I was going to do it, I'd at least make it worth while. I don't know if I went over the top with this, if I was a little too cruel or a little too graphic and gruesome. Or not at all and I'm just over reacting. At any rate, Rate and Review. **_

_**~Surfingpichu Over and Out**_


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